


Puzzling Pieces

by Sapphiresterre



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014), Coco (2017)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Blood, Disturbing Themes, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 00:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13307031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphiresterre/pseuds/Sapphiresterre
Summary: Formerly Colección of One-Shots. Changed it because Puzzling Pieces consumed the collection.Miguel finds himself lost in San Fransokyo in search of his apartment. It’s hard to ignore the temptation to ask the wandering spirits for directions, but he can’t reveal his curse again. Luckily, one of the locals takes pity and directs him. Both are surprised to learn that Miguel is Hiro’s new tenant. Miguel hopes they’ll get along well enough, but when he asks about the photos of a young man, he learns that the man died years ago. But that can’t be right, because when he checks the Land of the Dead in his dreams, Tadashi isn’t there.NOTE: UP FOR ADOPTION. Anyone & everyone can continue this story with whatever they'd like.





	1. Summaries of Vague Ideas – THIS SPECIFIC CHAPPIE WILL BE DELETED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am smitten with the movie Coco. From the story to the characters and to the music. URGH! One-shots are tempting. Oh how I love to throw happy characters into horrible, traumatic situations. What a great stress reliever for me!
> 
> Stumbled across some Coco and Big Hero 6 crossover fics, and I kinda dig the idea so there may or may not be some eventual Miguel Rivera x Hiro Hamada action in a one-shot or two. I dunno, haven't gotten that far yet.

1) Twisting the Line  
Miguel Rivera, freshly 21 and touring the United States to further his dreams as a musician, assumed he was safe from any spiritual havoc. But, when a once-dead enemy twists the line between life and death for revenge, Miguel finds that living alone in a foreign country is one thing – dodging a hellbent sorcerer’s plans is another!

2) Unfinished Business  
After being cursed at the age of 12, Miguel had long since learned to respect the dead. But, when he stumbles upon a murder scene years later and narrowly escapes notice, the victim tracks him down and casts a curse. He will see and be plagued by spirits with unfinished business forever…unless he solves the murder and frees the victim’s soul.

3) Impossible Truths  
When Miguel learns his 9 year old sister refuses to believe in _Diá de Los Muertos_ , he worries not only for his ancestors, but for his sister as well. If she didn’t believe, would she forget those she lost? What would happen to her when she passed? He promises to change her mind, but how can he do so without proof?

4) Cuties in Cafés (crossover with Big Hero 6)  
Miguel didn’t think he’d have time to fall in love: between juggling family, music gigs, and a big move to San Fransokyo, there was no free time! But when he wanders into Lucky Cat Café late at night, he crashes into a fast-talking young man with a white robot. And apparently he’s a resident superhero. _¡Dios mío!_ What in the world?

5) Culture Shock (crossover with Big Hero 6)  
San Fransokyo is so unlike Santa Cecilia: massive. Miguel is lost within seconds and resists the urge to ask lost spirits for directions. Fortunately, he meets a handsome, not-dead, local to help him navigate the sprawling metropolis. Unfortunately, he reveals his cursed ability. Hiro just thinks he’s crazy, so everything’s fine…until he learns that Hiro’s brother died and that exact brother is the one following them.

6) Puzzling Pieces (crossover with Big Hero 6)  
Miguel finds himself lost in San Fransokyo in search of his apartment. It’s hard to ignore the temptation of asking the wandering spirits for directions, but he can’t reveal his curse again. Luckily, one of the locals takes pity and directs him. Both are surprised to learn that Miguel is Hiro’s new tenant. Miguel hopes they’ll get along well enough, but when he asks about the photos of a young man, he learns that the man died years ago. But that can’t be right, because when he checks the Land of the Dead in his dreams, Tadashi isn’t there.

~oOo~


	2. Puzzling Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miguel finds himself lost in San Fransokyo in search of his apartment. It’s hard to ignore the temptation to ask the wandering spirits for directions, but he can’t reveal his curse again. Luckily, one of the locals takes pity and directs him. Both are surprised to learn that Miguel is Hiro’s new tenant. Miguel hopes they’ll get along well enough, but when he asks about the photos of a young man, he learns that the man died years ago. But that can’t be right, because when he checks the Land of the Dead in his dreams, Tadashi isn’t there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Temptation to write some Higuel prompted me to explore this idea more. Hope you like it.

Miguel fidgeted with the backpack straps as he followed the airport terminal signs and tightened the hold on the guitar case in his spare hand. The last time he'd been a building this massive was nine years ago when he was twelve and stuck in the Land of the Dead. Though he survived the adventure, he didn't come out unscathed.

Habit kept his gaze steady as skeletons walked around him, mingling among the living people traveling to their gate in one direction or to baggage claim in the other. His fingers played with a frayed edge on the left strap, keeping him grounded whenever a skeleton happened to phase through him. Suppressing shivers wasn't easy, but keeping his hands busy helped with the nerves.

He passed through a security standpoint and down a set of escalators before the hallway widened into baggage claim. With the exit in sight, he hustled past waiting people and wandering souls, through revolving doors, and out into fresh air. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and entered the passcode before tapping the screen and finding the app he needed. The battery was pretty low, but hopefully it'd get him to his new apartment.

Once again, he followed signs to the bus waiting area and played with his phone. Nervous excitement kept him alert after the long flight, but when the bus arrived and he boarded after showing the receipt on his phone to the driver, exhaustion crashed like a wave the moment he sat down. The bus was packed, but he scored a single seat in the back of the vehicle and curled up with his backpack as a pillow.

Dreams blurred together. He didn't care to linger in any one of them, as most had him wandering the Land of the Dead in bits and pieces. No one but alebrijes ever saw him in his dreams, he was a ghost in the Land of the Dead. That was fine for the most part, except when he needed advice from Héctor or Imelda. Otherwise, he was content to just explore the various parts of the massive land. It hosted several cultures from over the globe, after all.

The next time he opened his eyes the bus had arrived at the last stop in San Fransokyo. He scrambled to alert the driver, noting that it was significantly more empty than when he first got on, and hopped off to find himself in the center of the city and not near the edge where he needed to be. If he had just woken up sooner or even set an alarm on his phone…

Miguel shook his head and checked his phone with a worried frown. The battery would die soon and using the GPS would definitely kill the phone. While he had the charger in the backpack, did they have any internet cafés in the USA? What were the customs when someone needed to charge their phone? Could they even use a normal café so long as they bought something?

A shiver shot down his spine as a skeleton walked through him. He swallowed back a gasp and instead chanced a glance around him. Living and dead people alike hustled down the sidewalk. Squished buildings stood tall next to each other and trains without wheels slid down metal tracks on the streets. Cars bustled past one another and he scanned the area for any delis or cafés but so far it appeared he was in a residential area.

"Okay…" he murmured. "Maybe I could just ask for directions?"

He stood with his back to a building and bit his lip. Everyone looked so busy, from talking on their phones to texting or even to talking with a companion… _dios mío._  How could he ask someone if they never stopped? He wouldn't know unless he tried.

" _¡Perdón!"_ Miguel approached a woman. "Do you know where the Lucky Cat Café is?"

She shrugged. "Use your phone," and continued on her way.

He frowned and tried several times only to be given the same result.

Miguel checked his phone for the time and sighed as the battery percentage glared at him. "Maybe just a little peek?"

A minute after typing in the address on the GPS app and realizing the directions required taking one of the 'cable cars' to quicken the arrival time to the destination, his phone died.

 _"¡Caramba!"_ He muttered. Now he couldn't even contact his landlord señor Hamada and let him know he was on his way.

Temptation crept along his spine as a skeleton in a suit walked past with a determined look in her eyes. Maybe she could help him…?

"No, no," he muttered. He promised himself to start fresh. "Just keep trying."

" _Perdón_  me," he approached a haggard mother with her child. "Do you know where–"

"I'm sorry, can't help you." She hurried away, child in tow.

An older man walked by.

"Excuse me, do you know where–"

"Check your phone, kid."

He crossed his arms, the motion slightly awkward with the guitar, and huffed. "I'm 21."

A middle aged woman nearby a laughing group of young adults strolled past and he tapped the woman's shoulder. " _Señora_ , do you know where the Lucky Cat Café is?"

She glanced at him. "Sorry, I don't."

He sighed and retreated to the wall, absently aware that a young man with fluffy black hair had stopped the rest of his group. And were headed his way.

"Hey," the asian-ish guy greeted in a smooth tone. "You're looking for the Lucky Cat Café?"  
_"Sí,"_  he nodded fast. "Could you point me in the right direction?"

The guy, roughly his age if he had to guess, glanced at his older peers and shrugged. "I'm heading there right now, I've got someone to meet today, so come with us."

A grin blinded the stranger.  _"¡Muchas gracias!"_

"What's your name, anyway?"

"Miguel!" He chirped, happy to have a friend, no matter how short-term it would be.

"Huh." The stranger extended a white palm, glancing at the guitar case. "The name's Hiro."

They shook hands and Hiro introduced him to the group. "The big guy wth dreadlocks is Wasabi. He's a neatfreak."

The burly black guy grinned and ruffled Hiro's hair.  _"Organized_. I am  _organized_. You could learn something from me!"

Hiro shrugged him off while a friendly scowl and jerked a thumb at the korean-asian lady. "The gum-popping chick glaring at me? That's GoGo."

The gum popped as she cocked a brow. Miguel smiled nervously until the blonde woman in high heels bounced to the front of the group and chirped. "I'm Honey Lemon, pleasure to meet you!"

"And I am Fred!" The last member of the group, a lanky blond man with a monster beanie, aimed finger-guns at him. "The monster connoisseur!"

Miguel offered a puzzled smile and the group surrounded him, sweeping him along the streets of San Fransokyo with bubbling laughter and jokes. Apparently they had all gone to college together and were currently a team of scientists with their own business. They sold their latest inventions and shared their knowledge with the world and often donated profits from their successes to the poor.

Whether it was true or not, (because how could a group so young be so successful?) they certainly  _sounded_ honest. Besides, he wouldn't meet them again after this, so what was the harm in listening to their stories? If he thought about it, he himself had crazy stories to share from the Land of the Dead but to anyone other than himself, the facts would only sound like fantasy. And the fact that he could see lost souls…? Impossible to believe!

Hiro gestured an arm towards a yellow building, phasing clean through a passing skeleton. "And here we are!"

" _¡Qué bueno!"_ Miguel cheered, ignoring the offended expression on the dead passerby's face. " _Muchas graciás_  for your help."

A bell jingled above them as they entered the bustling café and he grasped his wrist as nerves returned. "Oh  _dios mío,_  I hope the landlord is nice…"

"Landlord?" Hiro frowned. "Who're you looking for?"

 _"Señor_  Hamada. I'm his new tenant."

Brown eyes framed by dark lashes blinked. Black hair shifted as the man faced his friends, exchanged a look, and refocused on him with a amused smirk.

Honey Lemon giggled. " _Señor_  Hamada? I hardly think he's  _that_ old."

Fred burst into laughter. "This is straight outta a comic book!"

"Uh… _lo siento, pero no comprendo."_  He cleared his throat. "What's so funny?"

Hiro beckoned him to the doorway leading to a set of stairs near the café counter. "C'mon, let's get you settled in." He waved at redheaded woman wearing an apron. "Hi Aunt Cass."

Miguel flailed for words.  _"¿Qué?_ But where's–"

Honey Lemon softened. "Oh, Miguel, we're just playing with you. Hiro _is_  the," her lips twitched, " _señor_  Hamada."

He reared back.  _"¿Qué?"_

Even GoGo cracked a smile as the group laughed. He pouted until a fist bumped his shoulder and Fred took the lead to follow Hiro towards the back. The woman from before, Aunt Cass, spared a moment from waiting tables to introduce herself.

"You must be Miguel Rivera," she grinned with a teasing light to her eyes. "Aren't you a cutie? And a musician too! I hope you enjoy hot wings cause that's for dinner tonight. It'll make your cheeks  _melt_."

He blushed, shy, as the woman gathered him into an excited hug and squeezed.  _"Graciás, señora_ Cass?"

"Oh, silly!" She laughed and pulled away. "Just Cass is perfect."

Miguel fidgeted with the frayed stitching on his backpack and smiled, sheepish. It didn't feel right to call someone older than him without the proper title, but wasn't it also rude to disrespect said person's request to be addressed the way they preferred?

"Al…alright." He conceded. "But, um, what are hot wings?"

She blinked before brightening with blinding energy. "Only the spiciest edible food on earth! It's Hiro's favorite food, and I'm sure you'll love it too."

A shy smile worked its way onto his face as the woman bid farewell: work wouldn't wait! The group had wandered upstairs, but Hiro appeared at the top of the steps and waved for him to follow.

He hustled up the wood flooring, mindful of the pictures decorating the walls, and kept his hand on the railing as he arrived on the second floor. A quick glance revealed a small kitchen tucked on one side of the floor and the living room, complete with a couch and a TV, on the other. Between the two was a window with a cushioned flat surface to sit on.

Hiro called him up to the third floor and into a room he had once only seen in pictures on the apartment seeking website he had browsed. One room was split by a folding screen door. The left side, farthest from the stairs, was visibly cluttered with inventions and papers piled high on the corner desk. The group chattered amongst themselves. The right side, closest to the stairs, was bare save for the simple bed with a window above the headboard, nightstand, dresser, and a small table.

Hiro pulled away from the group and outstretched his arms in a grand gesture. "Welcome to the Hamada household! Or at least your side of the room, anyway."

Miguel smiled. "It's bigger than I thought it'd be."

Wooden flooring creaked lightly beneath his worn sneakers and he absently spun as he took in the room. Laces snagged beneath his foot and he gasped as his weight shift backwards and he instinctively tucked the guitar case close to his chest as he crashed against the floor.

Air wheezed out of him as he whined.  _"Ow…"_

A sound, something like a latch opening and air inflating, filled the room and fabric shuffled and squeaked as a  _giant white thing_  approached him from the other side of the room. Two black and circular eyes, connected by a black line on a rounded, cylindrical head, stared him down. He yelped and scrambled backwards as the fat thing waddled forwards and stopped.

A pleasant, albeit flat, voice spoke, coming from the  _thing._ "Hello, I am Baymax. Your healthcare companion."

Light illuminated on the chest of the… _thing_ and a variety of emojis appeared ranging from happy to crying.

"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"

He stared. "What…is  _that."_

The blackhaired and so not handsome man anymore cause he was clearly a  _jerk,_  covered his mouth with a hand as busted a gut. Honey Lemon hid a smile behind her hand. Wasabi covered a snicker with a cough, and GoGo just smacked her gum, unimpressed.

Hiro wiped a tear. "You…you've never seen a  _robot?"_

 _"That_  is a robot?  _¡Imposible!"_  He scooted back as the white, fat  _thing_ tottered close.

"I will scan you."

He squawked.  _"¿Qué–?"_

"Scan complete. Your heart-rate is elevated, as is levels of cortisol. The source: fear."

GoGo jammed an elbow into Hiro's side and the young man lifted his hands with a twitching smile. "Hey, hey, Miguel, it's okay. Baymax is here to help. Think of him as a big, huggable marshmallow."

Miguel scrunched his face.  _"Estás loco."_

"Relax, he's harmless." Hiro coaxed, still trying not to laugh. "Try hugging him, you'll see how squishy he is."

He hesitated and crept to his feet, eying the  _Baymax_  thing. "…he's harmless?"

"Yes," Baymax answered instead. "I was made by Tadashi Hamada to be a healthcare companion. I have over thousands of data on medical procedures."

White knuckles clutched the guitar case to his chest. He frowned as confusion overpowered his wariness. "Who's Tadashi?"

Hiro sobered and a tense silence fell. "He's my brother, but he died years ago."

"Tadashi is here, Hiro." Baymax interjected, pleasant and factual.

The group sighed collectively and Wasabi shook his head. "Always the same speech."

"There must be a glitch in his card." Honey Lemon added with furrowed brows.

Baymax's eyes clicked as he blinked. "There is not."

"Don't know how I haven't found it after all this time." Hiro shrugged, helpless, and he absently wandered to the cluttered desk to pick up a framed photo. "I'm convinced he only says that in the abstract, not the literal."

Tentatively, Miguel tried to see the photo but it was too far away to discern the face. He prodded "Can I ask…?"

"A fire." Shadows darkened Hiro's gaze. "He didn't make it out in time."

Fred slapped on a smile. " _Speaking_  of time! You outta unpack and make yourself at home! It's where you'll be staying for awhile, right?"

Miguel latched onto the change of subject, worried by the way Hiro held himself: tense, closed off, and so unlike the welcoming energy that he had been greeted with earlier.

 _"¡Sí!"_  He skittered away from the huge 'marshmallow' and gently placed his guitar case on the bed, followed by the rough dumping of his backpack. "For a year, at the least."

"Where are you from, anyway?" Wasabi took the cue and rolled with it.

"Santa Cecilia in México." A warm smile filled his face. "I promised  _mi familia_  to take several photos and send it to them while I'm away from home."

"Hey!" Fred launched into the conversation. "Why'd you pick San Fransokyo? I mean it's awesome, of course, especially since the  _coolest superheroes ever_  live here, but why?"

He puffed his chest. "I'm a musician, just like my great-great grandpa Héctor! I promised  _mi familia_  to try and share my music with the  _Estados Unidos_." Fred's words took a moment to register, but when they did, he spluttered. "Superheroes?"

This time, GoGo jabbed Fred in the stomach with an elbow.

Fred winced and rubbed the sore spot. "Yeah, haven't you heard of them?"

Miguel frowned, feeling like he was missing something important. "No…?"

"Big Hero 6!" Fred elaborated. "Protector of San Fransokyo from supervillains."

Unconvinced, Miguel rolled his eyes and emptied the contents of his backpack onto the covers. "If you say so."

A shrill beep from several sources made him jump and the group simultaneously whipped out their phones. Even  _Baymax_  beeped. Brown eyes skimmed the faces of the group, but other than their expressions hardening with determination as they met one another's gaze, he couldn't decipher what was missing.

Gum popped and GoGo finally spoke. "Put away your stuff, Miguel. We've got a meeting to get to."

"All of you?" Disbelief coated his words.

"We're a team of scientists, remember?" She lidded a stare at him, as if daring him to challenge her. "Work never waits. We have a business meeting to attend."

Honey Lemon, Wasabi, and Fred bid farewell. Hiro lingered a bit to reassure him they'd be back soon but GoGo dragged him by the elbow down the steps. Baymax followed them and he stared at the spot on the wall where they left.

If they were just going to a business meeting, then why was the 'marshmallow' going with them?

He shrugged, dismissing it as science-y stuff, and began to unpack. The group was an odd bunch, but at least they were nice. And Hiro…? He blushed. Curse hormones! How was he supposed to sleep when such a cute face was just across the room and hidden by a screen? He glanced at the folding screen, just past the divide, he could see Hiro's corner desk, followed by a clean path to the stairs. His expression softened as he spotted the framed picture previously held by Hiro.

Curiosity prompted him to wander over and inspect the photo. Tadashi Hamada… He looked to be about college aged, grinning as he held onto the brim of the baseball cap atop his head and half-turned away from the camera. In the background, a significantly younger Hiro stuck his tongue at the camera and puffed his cheeks in a comical expression, complete with crossed eyes. Clearly, the photo had been taken by Tadashi himself, and was clearly a special keepsake.

He frowned. But if the photo on Hiro's desk was of Tadashi when Hiro was…what? Fourteen, maybe? And if he had died  _years_  ago, then…

Tadashi Hamada had died as a young man.

Miguel choked on a gasp and gently returned the photo. Hiro was kindly letting him stay in his house for an affordable rent – at a price  _significantly_ lower than anywhere else in San Fransokyo. And he hadn't asked for anything other than he pay bills on time and be a good roommate.

Whether Hiro knew it or not, Miguel owed him. The least he could do was let his older brother know how he was thriving with friends. Friends older than him by several years, but friends all the same.

A trip to the Land of the Dead wouldn't be hard – he just had to take a quick nap and enlist his alebrije in the search for Hiro's brother. Hopefully, the United States region of the Land of the Dead would be as organized as the México one. He had seen snippets of the place: a green statue of a woman holding a torch, a giant red bridge with cables, and a mountain face with the faces of probably important men.

Dante was an incredible search dog, they'd find Tadashi in no time at all.

He gathered the stuff on the bed back into the bag and picked out a pair of clean clothes and the charger. He found an outlet by the nightstand and plugged in his phone. A shower would be nice before the nap since he felt kinda gross after such a long flight and bus ride. Wait…

Where was the shower?

He checked the left side of the room, but no bathroom was present. Neither was there one on his side of the room. One staircase later showed no bathroom on  _that_ floor either, just the kitchen and living room, so another set of steps later and he found himself exploring the first floor. Cass was nowhere to be found, presumably in the front of the building and in the café, so he took the time to take in the scenery.

A metal shelf filled with boxes, presumably for the café food since there were flour, sugar, salt, and other such ingredients, stood just beside the stairs. He curved passed it and found success. A bathroom complete with a shower-stall was tucked underneath the stairs and beside the shelf.

So then one bathroom for three people…or two if there happened to be a bathroom in the café portion of the floor. Since he technically lived there now, he saw no need to bother Cass for permission. He entered and locked the door.

One quick shower later, (thank goodness for a closet  _in_ the bathroom because he forgot he'd need a towel after the showering part) he made his way back up the stairs and flopped onto the bed. Just then, his phone buzzed.

He groaned and pulled himself up to grab the phone. Several missed calls from  _abuelita_  showed on the screen.

Promptly, he paled and called her.

She picked up on the first ring.

 _"Miguel Rivera!"_  She scolded and he grimaced. "You had us worried sick!"

 _"Lo siento, abuelita…"_  he winced as she let out a string of reprimands.

"And  _su hermana!_  Socoroo's been waiting for those photos of yours but does she have them?  _No!"_

He smiled, sheepish. "But at least I made it to my new home?"

"Photos, Miguel! She wants to see those fancy cars those  _Americanos loco_  have!"

"They're actually called cable cars." He offered with a nervous laugh and grabbed his wrist, a nervous tick. "My phone died so I couldn't take any pictures just yet."

 _"¡Ay dios mío,_ Miguel!"

Several apologies and reassurances to his grandmother and soon the rest of his family members seemed to soothe their worries…until the the phone found its way to his sister.

" _¡Hermano!"_  She huffed and he could imagine her crossing little arms.  _"¡Eres estúpido! Mamá y abuelita_ were so worried!"

"Ah, Socorro…" subconsciously, he hunched in on himself. "I didn't mean to make you all worry, but I got distracted with my new friends…"

Were they really his friends yet? He didn't know, but the words seemed to calm his sibling.

"Are they nice?" She double-checked. "Cause you know–"

"Mean people aren't worth the time,  _sí, sí."_  He agreed and tossed a line he knew would distract her. "Hey, there's a cable car that runs  _right outside_  my new house. It's  _loco_ , but they really don't have wheels and Hiro says they move cause of electricity! They're connected to these wires that run all the way through the city."

"Pictures!" She squealed. "Send me pictures!  _¡Ahora!"_

His body flopped onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. "Oh but  _no."_  He gasped. "How can I send a photo when you're  _calling_ me? My phone isn't super  _sofisticado,_  you know."

She squeaked. "Photos,  _por favor! ¡Chao_   _mi hermano!"_

"Love you, Socorro."

"Love you too!"

She hung up and he crawled up the bed towards the window. Outside, a cable car paused before entering the intersection. People climbed onto the back of the car while others hopped out a door near the front of the vehicle. One click of the camera later, the cable car continued on its way. He texted the photo to his sister, tacked on a message saying he needed a nap, and plopped face-first onto the pillow.

His phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen, confirming her farewell, and he closed his eyes.

Environments blurred together before settling in a ghostly mimicry of San Fransokyo, complete with cable cars driven by skeletons moving alongside skeletons on bicycles.

He whistled. "Dante!"

A beat and a warning bark later, Dante barreled into him from the sky. He laughed as licks coated his face before shoving the glowing alebrije off his lap.

"Dante, I need to find Tadashi Hamada."

The dog perked and stuck his nose to the ground, sniffing fast before racing away. Dante lead him along the streets and he dodged any and all skeletons he could and phased through those he couldn't. The one's he didn't avoid shivered as if a cold breeze had blown past them.

He followed after the dog as it wound around a corner and soon to a simple blue house. "This the place?"

Dante barked and he strode up the steps. Nerves crept on him but he knocked against the wood and stepped back. Muffled voices from behind the door approached and he had half a beat to remember that skeletons couldn't see him before the door opened.

A woman stood in the doorway, a man behind her, and she frowned at the alebrije, clearly confused. "Hello?"

Dante looked to him with a happy grin and lolling tongue. The woman followed his gaze but didn't notice him. He sighed.

"Dante, this can't be Tadashi. He doesn't match the picture at all!"

Instead of listening to him, the alebrije bounced through the woman's legs and into the house. The man and woman chased after him. So did Miguel, for that matter, but he halted when he caught sight of several photos framed beneath the stairs leading to the next floor.

A man and a woman sitting on a couch. A young boy sitting on the armrest. An even younger boy held in his arms.

He squinted. "That kinda looks like…"

His eyes trailed onto the next picture. A teenaged Hiro Hamada was squished in a hug by Honey Lemon, and surrounded by Wasabi, GoGo, and Fred, and off to the side…was Tadashi. They stood in front of a stage.

Next was of Hiro surrounded by his friends from when he was a teenager, but all were significantly older. After that was, oddly enough, a team of people in suits battling what looked like some guy in a white and red mask, held in the air by a bunch of small black things, and a glowing swirling round thing floated above them all. Weird. Was that art of superheroes and a supervillain or an actual thing? Superheroes weren't real…were they?

The next picture, though, sent his mind reeling. Tadashi Hamada, older with a hard jaw, pronounced cheek bones, and a burn scar lacing up his arm until it was hidden by a sleeve, stood along the shore of a beach in the moonlight. His expression was eerily blank, as if he were lost in thought, and his stance suggested he was waiting for something.

"Tadashi…" A thought nagged the back of his mind as he quoted. "'Tadashi is here.'"

Miguel breathed as something crashed in the background. The woman sped past and he glimpsed her face. "If  _they_  are Hiro's parents…" (he didn't want to dwell on the thought of dead parents) "and if  _that's_ Tadashi in the photo with a burn scar and looking the same age as  _Wasabi and Fred…_ then…"

"Dante?" He called and the alebrije skidded to a stop beside him, panting. "Is Tadashi Hamada…

"…alive?"

~oOo~


	3. Puzzling Pieces Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miguel finds himself lost in San Fransokyo in search of his apartment. It's hard to ignore the temptation to ask the wandering spirits for directions, but he can't reveal his curse again. Luckily, one of the locals takes pity and directs him. Both are surprised to learn that Miguel is Hiro's new tenant. Miguel hopes they'll get along well enough, but when he asks about the photos of a young man, he learns that the man died years ago. But that can't be right, because when he checks the Land of the Dead in his dreams, Tadashi isn't there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Mentions of violence.

After the revelation, Miguel had retreated from the deceased Hamada household with Dante and returned to the waking world. Without anyone to distract him from his thoughts, he absently unpacked and filled the dresser with his clothes (folded and neat, just as his _abuelita_ had drilled into him but who knew how long the habit would stick without her there to nag him) and opened the guitar case. He scooted the case to the corner and hopped onto the bed where a notebook and pen waited. 

Idly, he strummed and played with different chords. Without Baymax present to confirm the news, he had nothing else to occupy himself. True, he could explore the city, but the nervous anticipation kept him fiddling with the strings. Every now and again, inspiration struck and he jotted lyrics into the journal along with the respective notes before returning to his freeform play.

If he went out, there was a chance he would miss Baymax. But, he had to ensure he only asked when Hiro wasn’t present. If Baymax answered that Tadashi was, in fact, dead, then his questioning would only bring Hiro grief. But if Tadashi was alive…?

Then wouldn’t it be a great surprise to reunite the two?

Sunlight crept away from the room as darkness began to rise. He flicked on the lights when enough sunlight had faded and resumed playing. It wasn’t until sunset did he hear familiar voices emerge from the distant chatter of the café. Miguel returned the guitar to the case and made his way to the stairs.

Climbing up to the second floor was Hiro followed by GoGo, Honey Lemon, Wasabi, and Fred with Baymax at the rear. They curved the corner to enter the living room and he hopped down the steps to greet them. They gathered on the couch and turned on the TV. News played faintly as they talked and he shuffled over, quiet.

_“Resident superheroes Big Hero 6 managed to defeat the Loch Ness Monsterette with no casualties and minimal damage to the pier.”_

Fred laughed but the noise had a tired edge to it. “…I know Monsterette is a girl, but couldn’t she have come up with something that made _sense?”_

“She added the ‘ette’ to Monster, didn’t she?” Honey Lemon pitched in. “And she was based on the Loch Ness myth, so technically it made sense.”

Wasabi groaned as he stretched. “Today packed a punch, though. I’m _exhausted.”_

Feeling bad for eavesdropping, Miguel took the lull in conversation to reveal himself. “Sounds like a rough meeting.”

A strangled scream erupted from Wasabi and within a second the group had shifted from sitting on the couch, relaxed, to standing together with fists raised. Miguel squeaked and jumped backwards and behind Baymax, the only one calm. Right now, the fat ball of white seemed like his best bet for protection against the team of wild-eyed scientists.

A moment of harsh breathing passed before Hiro awkwardly laughed. “Oh, _hey,_ Miguel! You sure gave us a scare.”

Still spooked, Miguel peeked around the white bulk to see they had shifted into awkward, embarrassed stances. He grasped his wrist and stepped out of his hiding spot. The TV played in the background.

“…so a _really_ rough meeting?” He offered with a nervous chuckle. “You guys looked ready to break something.”

Laughter, shaky with nerves, tumbled out of Honey Lemon. “Breaking things is a great stress reliever?”

Fred tacked on, reaching for the vase of flowers on the kitchen counter. “Yeah! Like this–”

Hiro gasped. “Fred, _no–”_

Miguel suddenly wondered if befriending these weirdos had been a good idea.

Just then, Cass appeared. “Hiro, can you get the– _what in the–_ put that down!”

She yelled as Fred played keep away with the vase. Being outnumbered, though, the game ended quickly as Fred curled around the ceramic and laughed madly as GoGo tried to pry it from his hands. He stopped laughing when she kicked him. When the vase was retrieved (and flowers notably crunched and sorry-looking), Cass shooed them away so she could cook. They trotted up to the third floor but Miguel hesitated a beat.

He drifted to the kitchen. “Would you like some help, _señora_ Ca–ah, I mean Cass?”

Her lips curled, playful. “Not only a cutie but a sweetheart too!” She ruffled his hair with motherly affection. “Thank you, Miguel, but only one chef fits in this kitchen.”

He blushed and swatted away her hand, a warm feeling bubbling inside him. She reminded him of his mom, in a way. It was nice to have a motherly figure in his new home. Made the transition easier to bare, he supposed.

“ _Sí, sí,_ ” he agreed. “Then I look forward to your cooking!”

“Hot wings!” She called as he retreated up the stairs. “They’ll make your face _numb.”_

He laughed and entered the room to see the group lounging on Hiro’s side of the room. From bean bags to the bed to the desk chair, they were _everywhere_. 

“ _Hola.”_ He greeted. 

Hiro spun in the chair by the desk,. “Hey, Miguel. Wanna see what we’ve been working on?”

He nodded and shuffled close, realizing one member was missing. “Oh, hey, where’s Baymax?”

“Charging.” Hiro answered and shifted in the seat to give him a better angle to see the notebook atop the only clean spot.

Miguel made a face. “Charging?”

“Yeah, he’s a robot.” Hiro swallowed a chuckle but the grin gave him away.

Miguel scowled until Hiro distracted him with the notebook. As Hiro started to describe the scientists’ latest invention, Miguel found himself zoning out the words and just listening to the exited tone they were spoken with. Smooth and rich, Hiro gestured to different parts of the diagram. Explanations in science-y lingo flew over his head and he contented himself with watching the earnest expression on the young man’s face.

He hadn’t realized a blush was creeping from his cheeks to his ears until he realized his collar felt uncomfortably hot…and Hiro had paused just long enough in his energetic babble to notice something was off.

“Hey, you feeling okay? You’re redder than a tomato.” Hiro pressed a hand to his forehead. “You feel fine though, just a little hot.”

Miguel recoiled from the touch and grabbed his own wrist with a awkward smile. His cheeks burned brighter. “Oh, it’s uh, nothing! I just think it’s kinda hot in here, that’s all.”

GoGo popped her gum. “Then take off your hoodie, genius.”

She lidded a flat stare at him when he shot her a scowl. When she cocked a brow and quirked her lips slightly, he swallowed and prayed she hadn’t figured him out. What kinda creep would she think he was if she knew he had already developed a small crush on his _roommate?_ Who was also her _friend? Dios mío_. Not good.

Instead of shooting a comeback (cause he had none), he unzipped the dark red hoodie and slung it off his shoulders. He flicked his wrist to toss the clothing to his bed.

Fred whistled. “Whooo! We should play strip poker sometime. You’d be great at it!”

“Great at losing.” GoGo retorted.

“Even better!”

Burning heat seared his cheeks as the blush burned into a deep crimson. “ _¡Dios mío!_ What is _wrong_ with you?”

He turned to see Hiro blushing himself as he tugged on his collar. _Bueno_. At least he wasn’t the _only_ one embarrassed by the idea.

“Oh _-kay!”_ Hiro’s voice cracked. “Back to business!”

Miguel took the offering and ran with it. “Yeah, those inventions of yours…”

They continued to talk until the older members had to leave. Weariness tugged on his limbs as he bid Hiro goodnight and tucked himself into bed. Hopefully tomorrow would provide him with a chance to talk to Baymax.

The next day proved to give him _nothing._ Baymax and Hiro were joined at the hip, and if they weren’t together then they were surrounded by the others. Days passed and Miguel’s frustration was mounting. Between looking for gigs to perform at to earn extra money and waiting for opportunities to talk to Baymax alone, he was starting to be convinced he’d never get the chance to ask. So he had to take a risk.

Hours after Hiro had fallen asleep, Miguel tiptoed to Baymax’s charging station and murmured, “ow.”

Baymax inflated and he had to hurriedly tell him to whisper as they ran through the customary greetings. Miguel led him down to the living room, crept past the sleeping Cass (she slept on the pullout couch, huh), and stopped in front of the first floor bathroom.

“Baymax,” he murmured, hyper aware of waking any of the Hamadas. “I’ve been meaning to ask for awhile now but when you said ‘Tadashi is here,’ did you mean…” He cleared his throat and braced for the worst. “Is Tadashi Hamada alive?”

“Yes.” Baymax tilted his head. “Would you like me to scan for his location?”

Air caught in his throat as he sucked in a gasp. _Imposible_. “You can do that?”

“Yes, scanning now.”

A beat passed.

“He is in the Missioniato District. Located at 1971 Sancho Street, between 20th Avenue and 19th.”

“Unbelievable.” He exhaled. “You actually…” A lightbulb went off. “Wait, I need to write this down. Wait here.”

He hustled up the steps as quietly as possible, grabbed his journal and pen, and hustled back down. Repeated addresses and directions scribbled later found himself hugging the incredible, _lovable_ , marshmallow robot and thanking him.

“This is gonna be _so cool.”_ He whispered with a grin that hurt to wear. “ _Muchas graciás,_ Baymax. I appreciate it.”

They returned to the room and Miguel slipped into bed, promising to visit Tadashi in the morning. True to his word, when the morning rolled around, he rolled out of bed. A chance glance at one sleeping Hiro sprawled in the bed and drooling made him snicker…until he realized the guy’s shirt was riding up to reveal a pale stomach and pants that hug low on slim hips… His cheeks burned as he fled to the shower.

Returning to the room, damp hair slick against his forehead, showed Hiro had awoken. And was blearily rubbing his eyes. Miguel smiled past the blush. Bedhead was an _adorable_ look on Hiro.

_“Hola,_ Hiro.”

Groggily, Hiro slid his gaze onto Miguel’s face and stopped. “Uh…” Pale cheeks reddened and brown eyes flicked over his frame. “Hey, you’re not stinky anymore.”

Miguel squawked. _“¡Oye!_ ”

The jerk laughed as he stormed over, stole a pillow, and smothered that stupid, deceivingly cute, _evil face!_ Protests were muffled by the soft fabric and he took vindictive satisfaction as Hiro failed to wrangle it off of him. At least until a pale hand snagged his wrist and sent him toppling onto the covers.

Hiro wrestled his way to be on top of Miguel but he wasn’t one to be so easily caught. Wriggling, he slipped out from underneath and tackled the older male, grabbing another pillow and attacking with a vengeance. Hiro defended himself with choked laughter before working his way onto his knees and flopping his entire weight on top of Miguel. 

Miguel gasped for breath and laid still, face near Hiro’s own. “Not bad.” His eyes glinted with mischief as he fought back a blush. “But you gotta try harder than that!”

Before Hiro could catch his bearings (for he was staring dazedly into brown eyes), Miguel twisted just enough to work brown fingers beneath sleeved arms and wiggled them.

Hiro _shrieked._ “No fair!” He burst into uncontrollable laughter.

_“Revenge!”_ Miguel roared and kept tickling.

Hiro scrambled away from him to retreat behind the bean bag. Miguel grinned and stalked off the bed with dancing fingers. 

He crowed. “Admit defeat and I may save you the disgrace of _losing the war!”_

_“Battle.”_ Hiro corrected with a grin. “You won the battle, but _I_ will win the war.”

Brown hands dropped into crossed arms as Miguel let himself relax. “You really _do_ have brains up there. Huh. And here I thought I heard an echo when I hit your head.”

Hiro gaped. _“Rude.”_

Miguel hid a smile behind a hand. “ _No sé sobre tú,_ but I’m hungry. See you at breakfast!”

A pillow sailed his way and he skipped out of range and down the stairs. 

~oOo~

An hour after breakfast, he parted ways with Hiro. Though the older male seemed disappointed to see him go (as Hiro had offered to show him the city some more), he bid farewell with the claim that he wanted some space alone to call his family. Of course, he’d have to follow through with that claim after he found Tadashi because he wasn’t raised to be a liar.

“1971 Sancho Street.” Miguel checked his phone. “Between 20th Avenue and 19th.”

The further he walked in the right direction, the dirtier the streets became. He tucked the phone into his pocket. From once pristine houses with fresh paint and smooth sidewalks to houses in disrepair with broken windows or cracked pavement, it wasn’t pretty. Doubt haunted his mind, especially when a homeless person or two slumped beside their skeletal mirror image and needles rolled in his path, but his phone confirmed he was on the right path.

Angry yells floated his way from a distance. Audible fighting echoed along the streets and people who had any coherency glared at him. Either with hunger, possibly for his money, or with jealousy, possibly due to his unripped clothes. 

_“Territorio de pandillas.”_ He muttered, clutching the phone in his pocket. Just his luck.

Why would Tadashi live in gang territory? Could Baymax have been wrong? Numbers, worn with age or hidden by graffiti, passed him as he walked. A few streets later, he found it: dirty white decorated with an ugly blend of colors from spray painted nonsense, the house stood tall despite the mess.

He picked his way through shattered glass and walked up the steps. Weed laced the air and a stare or two burned his back. But whether they were from the dead or living, he ignored them and knocked on the door.

Muffled footsteps approached and he stepped back, glass cracking beneath his sneakers. A glance around confirmed skeletons and drunk people alike stared at him, but the door began to open. A glance at the burn scar starting from the visible skin on an arm and leading up to a neck, made him hesitate.

Maybe there was a _reason_ Tadashi hadn’t returned to his brother.

“What do you want?” The man gruffed before taking a moment to really notice him. “What’s a kid like you doing here?”

Glares burned his back. His mind reeled for an excuse, a lie, _anything_ to hide the real reason behind why he came and blurted. “I’m lost.”

Tadashi (because who else could match the picture from the Land of the Dead, especially with the scars?), sighed, long suffering as if he thought nothing more of Miguel than a dumb child, and said. “Use your phone.”

“It’s dead and I don’t have my charger.” He hadn’t realized his focus lingered on the burns on the bare arm until Tadashi cleared his throat and he winced. “Sorry to stare.”

“I get that a lot.” Tadashi dismissed with a shrug and Miguel studied how a dandelion climbed its way out of a crack in the steps. “Downtown is that way. Keep walking straight and you’ll eventually see a giant cat statue with a knife above a restaurant. That’s the center of town.”

He followed the arm (opposite direction he had been walking, of course), and turned to thank the man but the door clicked shut. A beat passed and he withheld a sigh, still feeling people watch him, and trotted down the steps and back the way he came. While walking in a straight line, he couldn’t shake a feeling of unease. Once he spotted the cat statue, _(qué extraño)_ he curved a corner and quickened his pace to merge with the pulsing crowd. He ducked behind a group of passerby and hopped onto a crowded cable car. 

The vehicle moved and his cable car pass beeped against a small machine, signaling he had enough to board. He ducked his head and squeezed between people, moving to a spot where he could hold onto a reachable railing, and waited. It wasn’t until he was several streets away did he feel it was safe enough to hope off the car and navigate his way on foot to the café. Just in case, he took a roundabout way.

So. For some reason Tadashi didn’t _want_ to be found. Why else would he live in a dump when he had a family that loved him? Who thought he was _dead?_ Why was Tadashi, the man that had built Baymax to to act as a _doctor,_ hiding in gang territory? Dread churned in his stomach.

He needed help.

But who could help him? A bell jingled as he opened a door. When had he arrived at the café? He paused just enough to greet Cass before making his way to the back of the room and up the stairs. The second floor and third floor were empty, so he grabbed his notebook and sat in the living room. He clicked on the TV. If anything, it would distract him from the budding headache.

Doodles filled the page as his pen moved. The news channel played on low volume and he plopped onto his stomach in an attempt to get comfier. Jean covered legs kicked the air as he drew guitars and music notes. Every now and then, words floated into coherence from the television but for the most part he was content to just unwind and hum.

A feminine voice filtered through his ears. “Thank you for saving us yesterday, Big Hero 6.” He focused on the screen. “I’m certain San Fransokyo citizens would like to thank you too somehow.”

The person in a purple suit atop a giant red robotic thing (were all robots in the United States as big as Baymax? _What an odd trend_ , he mused), hopped down and greeted the interviewer. The voice was male, but garbled in a way. Maybe a voice-changer? He didn’t know.

“We’ve gotten several requests to meet our citizens, and we would love too. In fact, we’ve already discussed with the mayor for potential dates.”

The burly man in a green suit pitched in. “We’re still fine-tuning the details, but the information should be released in the newspapers soon.”

The tall woman in a pink suit bounced to the front. “But we’ve gotta get going! Thank you everyone for your support and see you soon!”

The heroes hopped onto the giant robot and flew off screen. Slowly, Miguel smiled. If they really _were_ superheroes, then they’d be _perfect_ allies. And he had the perfect opportunity to ask for their help.

He scribbled ideas and investigated the internet for secluded meeting spots. A note asking them to meet him at one of the piers should suffice. But what would the note actually say? Words covered pages until he settled on a final draft.

_I need your help. Tadashi Hamada is in trouble, but I can’t help him alone. Meet me at pier 25, near the Rainforest Warrior warehouse at 9pm. Sincerely, Miguel Rivera._

_Bueno._ That outta work. He ripped the page free, tore the perforated edge, and folded it neatly before tucking it into his pocket. Just then, Hiro came up the stairs to regal him with a funny story that happened at the lab.

“…and every-time Honey Lemon’s glasses work as perfect safety goggles! I just don’t get it!”

Miguel rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius?”

Hiro nudged him and Miguel batted him away. “Did you ever call your family?”

_Oops._ Miguel winced and lied. “Yeaaaaaaah.”

“Didn’t go so well?” Hiro smirked. “Lemme guess, they yelled your ears off.”

“Sure did!” His voice pitched high with the lie and he scrambled for a change of subject. “Hey, did you know that the superheroes are gonna have a meet-and-greet thing for fans?”

“Yeah?” Hiro wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Huh. You thinking of going?”

“ _Sí_.” Miguel trailed his eyes to the TV, now playing a nature channel. “Fred says they’re really cool, so I thought it’d be nice to see them.”

Hiro snapped his fingers. “Aw, bummer I can’t go. I’ve got another meeting.”

Disappointment weighed on his shoulders as he shrugged. Though, it would actually be a good thing to not have Hiro there. There was a chance he would notice him slipping the ‘superheroes’ the note.

“Always next time.” Miguel said instead. “Wonder when it’ll be.”

“Yeah…” The reply was distant.

Miguel glanced at his friend but couldn’t read anything from the expression. Maybe Hiro was more down about missing out than he let on? Nothing a fun distraction wouldn’t fix.

Miguel slapped Hiro’s arm. “Tag, you’re it!” 

“Wha–” By the time Hiro realized the second battle had begun, Miguel was down the steps and out the door.

“Catch me if you can!” 

They chased one another around the neighborhood. The game only ended when Miguel was horribly out of breath and Hiro barely winded. For a slender man, Hiro was obnoxiously fit. After Miguel admitted defeat, they returned to the house.

A couple of days passed until the news revealed the location and time of the superhero autograph session. He jotted down the date and eagerly waited for the day to arrive.

When it did, his nerves were on fire. It didn’t help that he had to wait in a ridiculously long line to get a five second autograph. Thankfully, five seconds was plenty of time so long as he didn’t fumble with the paper. His hands shook as the line shortened and his turn approached. Six heroes. (Did the robot count?) Six chances to hand over the note. Five seconds for each.

Hand two pieces of paper to one hero and get one paper back. _Sencillo_. He could do it. _Easy_. _Dios mío_ , was it his turn already?

Swallowing, he pulled the paper out from his pocket and clutched the notebook in his other hand. A yellow suited female beckoned him with a hand. _“Hola, Señora.”_

She didn’t say a word, but he coulda sworn he heard gum pop. None of the helmets on the heroes heads revealed the faces or expressions of said heroes. They were a mystery to their fans. Maybe that was why people were so enamored with them? He didn’t know. But apparently they could fight, and that’s all he needed.

She signed the paper and handed it back, a touch gentler than he expected from the way she stiffly held herself. He slid to the next person sitting at the table. Green suit and large build. His nerves crept over him as he greeted the stranger. The visor tilted with the man’s head, but he didn’t say a word.

“ _Graciás_ ,” he murmured, uncomfortable and moved to the next person.

Bubbly and wearing bright pink, the woman waved with energy that had to be sugar-induced. Except, the only sugar on the table were the gummy bears sitting in front of the second to last member of the team.

Nerves overwhelmed him and he almost gave _her_ the paper before the line shuffled beside him and he moved onto the guy in a purple suit.

“Gummy bears are great,” the man said lightly as he took the paper and took the time to write his name. Slowly. “You should share them with all your friends.”

“Y-yeah?” He squeaked. _Caramba_. He had to act. _Now._ “O-oh! I wanted to give this to you.”

He fumbled with the paper, mentally cursing a storm as he dropped it, and shoved it into the purple gloved hands. The person next to him cleared their throat and he hurried to the final member: the giant robot. The red suited thing signed surprisingly neatly and returned the paper. Now free to go and mission completed, he scrambled away from the crowd and buried his face into his hands.

_¡Qué embarazoso!_ But he succeeded and that’s all that mattered. He’d have their help once he explained the situation. 

Or at least, he _hoped_ they’d help him. But why wouldn’t they?

Hours blurred together as he took pictures of the city and texted Cass that he’d miss dinner until nine o'clock came and found him pacing under a lamppost in front of the _Rainforest Warehouse_. Waves churned against the pier and his nerves skyrocketed when he heard jet engines become louder as the superhero team arrived.

He smiled nervously as the giant red robot landed, but only the purple suited man hoped off. His shoulders were raised and fists clenched as he suddenly towered over Miguel.

“I don’t know what kinda prank you’re trying to pull,” the man snarled with electric venom. “But Tadashi Hamada is _dead._ ”

Miguel spluttered. _“¿Qué_? No, he’s–”

“Beat it, _kid.”_ The hero turned away.

When Miguel gathered his wits together, the man had climbed onto the robot. “Wait! My friend needs–”

“You to not butt in where you don’t _belong.”_ The man finished and engines revved.

“But my friend’s robot said–”

The superheroes soared away.

“–that he’s alive…”

Miguel’s heart crumbled. _Mierda_. What was he going to do now? Distraught, he let out a frustrated yell. What kind of _superheroes_ spat in the face of someone who needed help? What kind of _hero_ treated him like dirt? His expression hardened. Not a hero he needed.

“Fine…” He growled. “I’ll help Tadashi. _And_ I’ll do it alone.”

He stalked his way back to the café, but the adrenaline from the encounter faded when he walked through the door. The bell jingled but the café was empty. He slipped past a sleeping Cass and made his way to the third floor. Hiro sat in the corner by his desk and he softened. 

“Hey,” he acknowledged the other only to be met with stony silence.

He swallowed. The resolution from before left him drained in face of the treatment and he quietly slipped into bed.

The next few days didn’t improve Hiro’s treatment of him. If anything, the man seemed to grow colder and more standoffish. Even his friends kept their distance from him. What had he done wrong? Only Cass didn’t treat him differently, but she could tell something wasn’t quite right between them. She didn’t know what was wrong, but didn’t pry. Instead, she offered silent comfort with motherly looks of concern.

Regardless of what he did, Hiro wouldn’t stick around long enough for him to ask or to get an answer. He let the strangeness slide for the time being as he brainstormed how to help Hiro’s brother. If anything, reuniting the two would surely get him back into the good graces of their friends, right?

So when Hiro had left the house in a hurry one morning, Miguel returned to the gang territory in search of Tadashi. He followed the familiar route, studiously ignoring skeletons and addicts alike, and knocked on the door. It creaked open and he called out, wandering inside only to find it empty. Completely empty. As in, _nothing there empty._ He cursed. Where had he gone? 

Without any leads, he left the abandoned building. Subconsciously, his shoulders stiffened as he shuffled past a crying skeleton. He retraced his steps, skimming the area constantly to ensure he wasn’t followed or mugged, and nearly screamed when he turned a corner and spotted a familiar face turned slightly away from him.

_“¿Ernesto De La Cruz?”_ He hissed through a gasp. “How–“

The skeleton began to turn and he ducked behind the wall. Heart hammering against his chest, he fled in the other direction. How was this possible? That man was supposed to be in the Land of the Dead! He wasn’t a Lost Spirit, so what was he _doing_ here? Several skeletons watched him as he ran to the safety of a crowded intersection. _It was impossible._ He had to be mistaken. There was _no way_ he saw Ernesto De La Cruz.

“Only a _producto de su imaginación_.” He muttered.

Once again, he had to shake off a follower or two and return to the house. This time, he bypassed the café entrance and instead headed for the door beside the garage. He rifled through his pocket and grabbed his keys. His hands trembled hard enough that it took several tries to put it in the lock and he stumbled inside.

Hiro wasn’t home. A sigh of relief escaped him as he retreated onto his bed with guitar in hand and strummed away his nerves. Lyrics flitted in and out of his mind as he voice took a shaky tune as he sang. Occasionally, he fumbled with the improvised lyrics. The goal wasn’t perfection, only to calm himself. 

Was he going crazy?

The strings groaned beneath his fingers as he missed a chord. Memories floated to the forefront of his mind and he wheezed. _Free-falling from a building_. _Screaming_. Tears glistened in his eyes and he let them fall as his breath hitched. _Wind whipping his bare skin. The ground rushing to crush him but his empty lungs threatened to suffocate him first._ His voice caught on a whispered note and broke. He choked back a sob and wiped his cheeks. _His idol tried to kill him._

He couldn’t let a bunch of dumb memories from _nine years ago_ stop him. He had to save Tadashi. Even if Ernesto De La Cruz _was_ in the Land of the Living, he couldn’t let a _ghost_ stop him. _Sí._ A ghost couldn’t touch him here.

Then why was he still so scared?

_“Respira.”_ He chanted to himself. “Just… _respira.”_ But the air stopped before reaching his lungs and his head lightened and he cursed. _“Mierda.”_

With tears blurring his vision, he yanked the phone out of his pocket and dialed a familiar number. An elderly voice answered after the first ring and he sobbed.

_“¿Qué pasa, mijo?”_ His _abuelita_ continued on to murmur soothing nonsense.

Snot dripped down his face and he wished he had a tissue to wipe it as he blubbered. “I-I just…” He couldn’t tell her the whole truth. She’d never believe him. But he _could_ tell her the part she’d understand. “Have you ever had _un amigo_ that stopped talking to you? Just suddenly stopped?”

_“Ay, mijo.”_ _Abuelita_ responded softly. “Have you talked to him?”

He bit back a wail with a hiccup. “I’ve _tried_ but he runs before I can!”

“Oh, Miguel…” static crackled as she shifted and spoke with someone out of ear shot. “Your sister would like to talk to you.”

“ _¿Qué?”_ He started to protest. His sibling didn’t need to hear her grown brother cry his eyes out.

_“¡Hermano!”_ Socorro spoke with a no nonsense voice. “What did I say about mean people?”

“That they aren’t worth my time.” He sniffled and wiped his eyes. “But–”

“And what did I say about mean people who aren’t always mean?”

He halted. “You never said anyth–”

“I am now!” She bulldozed over him. “You talk to them! And if they keep running then you corner them and _demand_ they talk!”

A watery smile worked its way onto his face. “And if they still say no?”

“Then…” she faltered before resolution solidified. “Then if they don’t wanna be your friend, do you really wanna be _theirs_?”

The words took a moment to sink in but when they did, he offered a sad smile. “Are you sure you’re only nine years old?”

“Positive!” She chirped. “Now, chin up or else I’ll come down there with my _chancla_ to beat you up!”

Chuckles bubbled out of him. “But you’d have to find me first!”

“I’ve got Dante with me.” She countered. “He’s the best hunter ever!”

“Ah, _graciás hermana._ I feel better now.” He inhaled, feeling lighter. “Did you like the pictures I sent?”

“ _Did_ I?” She squealed. “ _Americanos_ are so _loco!_ How do so many people _fit_ in one car?”

“Beats me,” he put away the guitar. “But it sure doesn’t smell good when I’m being squished by the armpits of so many _loco Americanos_.”

Shrieking laughter filled the phone and he glanced at the clock. “It’s almost lunchtime, _hermana._ I’ve gotta go.”

_“Chao, hermano.”_ She wheezed. 

“I’ll be sure to buy deodorant and give it to anyone who needs it,” he added with a smile. “ _Chao, hermana.”_

A thumb ended the call. Now energized by the conversation, he grabbed his journal and hopped down to the kitchen for leftovers to act as his lunch. Cass was busy with the café and Hiro and Baymax were nowhere to be seen. He had time to himself. And he had time to think.

To help Tadashi, he needed a plan. First, he had to ask Baymax where Tadashi had gone to this time. Next, he had to write a note to give to the man. Since he was always stared at and since there had to be a reason for Tadashi avoiding his family, then secrecy was needed. A note asking him to meet somewhere secluded was the best bet.

Like with the note to the heroes, he scribbled drafts of notes until he settled on one that was a near mirror image of the note to the superheroes but with a few tweaks. 

_Meet me at pier 25, near the Rainforest Warrior warehouse at 10pm. Sincerely, Miguel Rivera._

Satisfied, he folded the note. Now to wait. He lurked in the joint room, feigning sleep when Hiro returned late at night and waited until the older male crashed. Sunlight steadily oozed into the room and he quickly ushered Baymax to the first floor, journal in hand, and questioned him once more. 

True to his suspicions, Tadashi had relocated. This time to the other side of town and equally shady. Like last time, he waited until morning before making his way to the destination. Alert and wary of the sketchy neighborhood, he tried to blend in as he curved through various streets. Were there more skeletons watching him than before? Impatient glances checked the addresses. He didn’t know, but he was steadily getting clo–

“ _Hola, niño.”_

He froze. _“Imposible.”_

“Did you miss me?”

Slowly, he turned. “De La Cruz…”

“I’ve been looking for you.” The skeleton mused, scanning him. Miguel realized that the skeletons behind the murderer looked vaguely familiar, as if he had seen them before. And recently too but he couldn’t pinpoint from where. “I came all this way and you won’t even say hello?”

“You tried to _murder_ me!” He spat. “Why would I want anything to do with _you?”_

“Oh, because…” the man glanced at the skeletons behind him, ( _lackeys_ , Miguel realized) “I know where that little friend of yours live.”

The lackeys shuffled and he resisted the need to retreat. “What friend?”

“What was his name?” A lazy smile stretched white bone. “Hiro Hamada? He seems like such a promising young man.”

Miguel’s breath hitched.

“Wouldn’t it be _awful_ if something happened to him? It’d be wonderful for me and _mi amigos_ here.” The murderer gestured wide. “A death for a life. With him dead, we’d be brought back to life.”

Chatter rumbled amongst the group. He swallowed. Hard. “Then I’ll stop you before you can.”

With that, he whirled on his heel and fled. Shouts pursued him as he sprinted to the nearby house. Frantic knocks pounded the door and a grumbling Tadashi answered. Miguel squeezed his way past the surprised man and slammed the door shut with his back and raced for the lock. The wood groaned as skeletal fists rained blow after blow on the other side and he winced as the vibrations spidered painfully down his spine. 

“I’ll get him, _niño!”_ Ernesto roared. “I’ll kill that brat and make you _watch!”_

Only when the flurry died down did Miguel switch his focus onto the man studying the door with a puzzled expression. He cleared his throat but didn’t dare pull away from the door. Not yet, anyway, Ernesto could still be waiting.

“You’re Tadashi Hamada, aren’t you?”

The man’s gaze darkened. “No.”

He didn’t have time for doubt. His priorities changed within the timespan of a short conversation. “Hiro needs help–”

The man looked like someone punched him. _“Hiro–”_

“—and I can’t do this alone!” He pleaded and blabbed as he shoved the prepared note into Tadashi’s hands. “It sounds crazy and I just learned this five minutes ago but a dead skeleton _ghost_ guy is trying to kill him to bring himself back to life and no one else will ever believe me and they all think you’re dead but your brother needs you now so help me, _please!”_

“My brother needs–” Tadashi stopped, eyes blowing wide as he murmured. “You can see them too?”

Miguel had half a second to register what Tadashi just said, and the implications of said statement, before a different voice bellowed from the second floor. “Who was that, _boy?”_

Tadashi cursed. His gaze darted around before settling on a wooden door and flinging it open. He grabbed Miguel’s shirt collar and shoved him inside the closet and shut the door with a frantic. “ _Stay put!”_

Paper crunched, fabric rustled, and footsteps approached. “Well, boy?”

“Just another angry drunk.” Tadashi breezily replied. “Tell them you don’t have alcohol and they try to break down your door, sir.”

The conversation faded as they walked deeper into the house. Miguel took the chance to make a break for it. He unlocked the door and slipped outside. Tadashi had his note. He sprinted down the streets. Tadashi believed him and would meet. Hopefully. _Dios mío._ He finally had an ally.

An ally in a game with impossible stakes.

~oOo~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea kept me awake at night and I couldn't resist fleshing it out. The more I wrote and brainstormed ideas, the bigger this story got. It was supposed to stay as a one-shot, but nooo. I'm already tinkering on Part 3. Darn it! This wasn't supposed to be a novella! (This Part 2 is about 12 Google Doc pages single-spaced, geeze)
> 
> Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a comment!


	4. Puzzling Pieces Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miguel finds himself lost in San Fransokyo in search of his apartment. It’s hard to ignore the temptation of asking the wandering spirits for directions, but he can’t reveal his curse again. Luckily, one of the locals takes pity and directs him. Both are surprised to learn that Miguel is Hiro’s new tenant. Miguel hopes they’ll get along well enough, but when he asks about the photos of a young man, he learns that the man died years ago. But that can’t be right, because when he checks the Land of the Dead in his dreams, Tadashi isn’t there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Disturbing themes, violence, and blood.
> 
> Also, Thank you to SalveSiS on AO3 and PhoenixWarriorFox88 on FFNet for checking over this chappie! They gave me some editing feedback, as well as comments on how it flowed as a reader.

Lampposts lit the pier. Miguel tapped his foot as he waited. Minutes dragged on but he was early and Tadashi still had plenty of time to appear. He bit his lip and wrung his wrists. Faint yells echoed on the otherwise quiet pier and engines revved in the distance. The superhero team were fighting villains tonight, but they weren’t anywhere near pier 25 or the café, thankfully.

A figure slunk out of the shadows to reveal a man with a baseball cap tilted low on his head. The stranger held a plastic bag from some grocery store. As he neared a burn scar along his neck became visible.

Miguel exhaled. “You came.”

“My brother needs me.” Tadashi responded, tone curt. “But I need equipment to make something. C’mon, the garage should still have what I need.”

“Garage?” Miguel peeked at the contents of the plastic bag as the older man took the lead. “What’re those?”

“Good luck charms.” Tadashi shushed him. “Now quiet, we can’t afford to be seen right now.”

He shrank a little and fiddled with a loose strand on his hoodie. They continued along a familiar route to the café and snuck into the garage. Once there, Miguel flicked on the light switch while Tadashi closed the garage door. But, when the Hamada pivoted to inspect the space, he halted.

Miguel started to ask what was wrong. When he saw Tadashi’s expression, he silently closed his mouth.

Tadashi stood rigidly by the garage door. His face was ashen and his lips were tightly pressed together. Shoulders rose slightly and the older Hamada took a shuddering, deep breath. When he exhaled, his eyes steeled with resolve.

The older Hamada circled the garage with stiff strides before jumping into work. He sat himself at the desktop and typed fast, occasionally checking the machine on the other side of the room, but otherwise remained silent as he worked.

Miguel, realizing he wasn’t needed, plopped on the red couch and idly dozed. Every now and again, a subtle buzz filled the room whenever Tadashi used the machine. If Miguel remembered right from one of Hiro’s rambles when the guy still spoke to him, the machine was a 3D printer.

Plastic rustled and Miguel jolted when Tadashi finally spoke. “It’s done.”

Bleary brown eyes examined the… _gun?_ Slowly, his jaw worked through disbelief. “Why. Did you make. A. _Gun?”_

“Spectral Exterminator.” Tadashi corrected. “It’s a gun that can kill ghosts.”

Miguel pursed his lips and wandered over. “You’re not actually gonna… _use_ that, are you?”

“Only if I have to.” Tadashi glared. “Better to have something to defend us with than nothing.”

_Cierto._ But he didn’t have to like it. Or admit it for that matter but right now they were a team. “Fine…” He hedged. “But don’t aim for anything vital, okay?”

“Fine.” Tadashi hedged in return.

Just then the garage door creaked. They whipped their focus onto the exit and Miguel acted on instinct. He grabbed Tadashi by the arm and yanked him to fall beside the 3D printer. The Hamada took the cue and curled out of view and Miguel stood a foot or two in front to block any view of the man.

The garage door opened and there stood the resident purple superhero and the giant red one.

“What.” The man snapped. “Are _you_ doing here?”

“I could say the same thing!” He squeaked, caught off guard by the sheer anger. 

A glance behind the hero made him pale to a sickly hue. A horde of skeletons strode behind Hiro with Ernesto at the lead. 

He kicked the bottom of the 3D printer three times. It was the only warning he could come up with before Ernesto sauntered closer. Oddly enough, he looked more solid and less transparent. Less glowy.

The red robot pleasantly stated. “I am sensing abnormal signs of life nearby.”

Ernesto took two steps towards the man but Miguel beat him to it. He rammed into the poor guy, knocking him to the ground, and rolled them away from Ernesto as the stranger spluttered curses. 

They wrestled and Miguel called out. “A little _help_ here?”

Tadashi launched from his crouched spot and aimed the gun. “Don’t. Move. _Ghost._ ”

The superhero stiffened above Miguel. Still straddling his chest, the stranger pulled off his helmet. “Ta… _Tadashi?”_

Baffled, Miguel gaped. Things clicked into place. Why else would a superhero unrelated to Tadashi care that he was dead? Why else would Hiro act so cold towards him after he asked the _superheroes_ for help? No _wonder_ he was so dodgy about the idea of meeting Big Hero 6.

Hiro was the purple team member.

Harsh cackling shocked him out of his stupor. “Regular bullets can’t hurt me.”

“They _aren’t_ regular bullets.” Tadashi snarled. “I’ve added spectral enhancements. You’ve heard of ghost repellents, haven’t you?”

Ernesto halted and Tadashi cocked the gun. Miguel whipped his head, nearly cracking his neck. The older Hamada had the gun aimed right between Ernesto’s eyes.

_“¿Eres estúpido?_ Don’t shoot him!” Miguel shoved Hiro to the ground and tackled Tadashi. 

“He’s trying to kill my _brother!”_ Tadashi protested and they wrestled with the gun.

“We’ll be no better than him if you kill him!” He argued and jammed an elbow into Tadashi’s gut before sending the gun skittering away. 

Right towards Ernesto.

Paling fast, he scrambled to his feet and Ernesto took the chance to grab the nearby gun and aim. 

They froze and Miguel swallowed. “That...that’s only a gun that can hurt spirits, right?”

Tadashi flinched beside him. “And people.”

Hiro, apparently shaken out of his own stupor as what had to be _Baymax_ in a red _suit_ stood over him, interjected. “Am I the only one seeing my _dead_ brother suddenly _alive_ and a skeleton flickering in and out of sight in my _garage?”_

Miguel shot him a glare. _Not the time!_ Footsteps clicked and he faced forward just as a punch sailed into his stomach. He curled around the fist and was swept over a broad shoulder. He groaned as the man retreated with a heated shout at his minions.

Skeletons surged forwards. Battle cries filled the air as footsteps pounded the pavement with fists at the ready. The Hamadas yelled as they were swarmed and Ernesto escaped with him as the prize.

~oOo~

His back smacked against the stone wall. He groaned as cold seeped through his clothes and his arms burned as they pushed against the stone flooring. He had just managed to prop himself onto his elbows when a skeletal hand grabbed his shirt collar and hauled him into the air.

“De La Cruz.” Miguel glared despite the way fear churned in his stomach and his legs dangled in the air. 

The skeleton said nothing as he hauled him to a corner of the warehouse. One of Ernesto’s lackeys that had previously followed them closely strode away before returning with a manacles. Ernesto dumped him to the floor and the lackey took the chance to grab his ankle and shackle it to the nearby pipe.

Fear made him fumble for words but what could he say? Would Ernesto kill him as revenge? Wasn’t his plan to kill Hiro and force him to watch? Or did he see a chance to take _him_ first before kidnapping Hiro? Oh _dios mío._ Maybe Tadashi’s gun wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He didn’t want to die. He _really_ didn’t want to die. But…

Did they have to kill a murderer to survive?

Another minion appeared and gave Ernesto a knife. Miguel swallowed and cowered as the man who once tried to kill him years ago towered over him once more.

“Where to strike first?” Ernesto mused and flicked a dark gaze over his shaking form. “I want to make you suffer the way you made _me_ suffer.”

“You…” his teeth chattered as the cold numbed his skin. “You _chose_ to murder _papá_ Héctor, I only–”

“Where’s the bowl?” De La Cruz snapped over him. “ _Luciana_ , get me that damn bowl!”

A female skeleton curved around a pillar and hustled with a ceramic bowl in hand. Miguel watched, stupefied. Why did they need a bowl? What exactly did they have planned?

“Why…?” He trailed off as a sinister gleam glinted in brown eyes. 

“Tell me, _niño,_ what does someone need to be _alive?”_

His heart hammered and he didn’t reply. Ernesto crouched over him.

“You could say the heart, maybe,” The skeleton pressed a palm to his chest and smirked. “Or you could say the brain.” The flat of the knife pressed against his temple. “If both are cut off then you’re dead, _cierto_.”

Miguel tried not to breathe as the blade gently trailed down his cheek. “But, _niño,_ only the living have…”

The knife slashed the spot above his elbow and he screamed as the wound burned. Ernesto shuffled back and sneered with a waiting hand extended beside him. 

“ _Blood.”_

Red liquid pooled down his arm and the sadist took the bowl from the woman and placed it beneath his elbow. Miguel writhed as Ernesto kept his wrist pinned to his shoulder, allowing the blood to move faster and more precisely into the waiting bowl. Veins pulsed as he kicked and screamed but the skeleton was bigger and heavier than him, keeping him pinned by sheer weight alone.

When his struggled stilled and his head lightened, the bowl was nearly full and Ernesto released him. He slouched against the corner and blinked sluggishly as blackness spotted across his vision. A rough texture wrapped tightly against the fresh cut and he could only manage a pained grumble.

“Can’t have you dying on me.” The sneering face neared. “You need to watch me take the life of your friend, after all. After that, I’ll keep you alive...as my _slave_.”

Miguel slurred nonsense and fainted.

~oOo~

The next morning, Miguel woke to the sounds of a faint scuffle. His head lolled on his shoulders as he blearily looked towards where he guessed the noise came from, but couldn’t see anything beyond the large crates and pillars. Coldness kept his mind fuzzily aware when a skeleton or two appeared and stood in front him. Like guards. He giggled. Skeleton guards. Skeleguards. _Skel-o-guard-o-s._ He giggled again.

Bones snapped in front of his face and his gaze dragged up to meet dark brown. “Wha’cha wan’?” He drawled. Absently, he was aware that familiar face in front of him looked… _wrong_ somehow. “I waz sleepin’. Don’ ya’ kno’ it’s rude to wake sumone up?” Giggles erupted. “I need my _booty_ sleep.”

The skeleton scowled and, again, something looked _off_ but the man turned before he could realize _why._ “Unlock it. We need to leave before they find him.”

Keys jingled and a skeleguard knelt by his ankle. The manacles clicked and fell off his ankle. The skeleguard hauled him over a shoulder and he groaned as his head pulsed.

“No fun…” he mumbled. “Gonna hav’ ah headache.”

“Tough.” The shoulder jostled him as they moved through the warehouse.

He whined. “You’re so _mean.”_

_“Quiet.”_ Someone shushed him. 

_Rude_. They didn’t have to shush him! So, he whined louder. “You’re a _meanie.”_

Something slammed open and light shone into the room. He squinted and buried his face against a dangling arm.

_“Miguel?”_ A familiar but garbled voice shouted so he peeked above the reddish whiteish patch on his arm.

Blinded, he moaned. “Turn off the lights, _por favor_.”

“Guys! Miguel’s over here!” The same voice called. _How nice_. They were thinking about him. So _bueno_. “Baymax, let’s cut them off!”

A dark voice cursed and sprinted with him in tow. Groans escaped him as his head ached. _Not fun…_

Engines revved and something landed nearby. He let himself look just long enough to realize it was a _slender purple man_ and a _buff red man._ Hidden just behind the giant guy was someone else. They were holding something in their hands. A gun? He didn’t know. But then the red man _waddled_ forwards just as a blast echoed. Someone screamed but laughter spilled out of him right until he was roughly ripped off a shoulder and cradled into red arms. If he knew how, he would’ve lifted a brow.

“Wow,” he snorted through a delirious grin. “I’m so popular, _everyone_ wants me.”

“Baymax has him!” People shuffled around him. “Guys, let’s go!”

Cursing filled the warehouse and his stomach flipped when gravity gave way. He cuddled in the warm hold and hummed. _Pre-heated. Bueno._ And drifted to sleep.

~oOo~

When he woke up, his head _hurt._ “Urgh…what _hit_ me?”

He tried to move an arm only to feel it pulse with pain. He flinched and cracked open brown eyes. Fading sunlight let him see he was alone in a familiar room. Kinda familiar. Since when did he sleep on Hiro’s bed? At least it smelled nice. He shook his head. As far as he knew, Hiro still hated his guts.

He tried to roll free of the covers only to find himself tangled. Several curses and moments of flailing eventually freed him. The wound on his arm itched and he had to fight the urge to peel the gauze and scratch it.

Horribly disoriented (because what in the world happened while he was unconscious?), Miguel’s stomach growled and he wandered down the stairs. Voices filtered into coherency and he hesitated at the top. 

_Honey Lemon. Wasabi. Fred. GoGo. Baymax, and…_ Hiro.

He swallowed. The last time he saw any of them, they were ready to chop his head off. Especially Hiro. Would they even want to see him? His eyes widened. _And Tadashi?_ Last he remembered, he was in the garage with the older Hamada when…

_“Mierda.”_ He muttered.

Hiro knew. Hiro saw Tadashi and wasn’t happy. Tadashi was going to _kill_ Ernesto but was stopped just in time. His heart stopped. Ernesto kidnapped him. Ernesto _slashed his arm._

_So how did he get here?_

He retreated a step and debated making a run for it. Facing the others after being ostracized for so long wasn’t high on his to-do list. His brain was fuzzy, his arm hurt, his stomach ached, and he was in _no_ _mood_ for confrontation.

Mind made up, he snuck back upstairs and rifled through a pile of clothes on his side of the room. He grabbed his wallet from the grimy pair of jeans he wore yesterday. Or, at least he _hoped_ the events in the garage was yesterday. Someone had to have changed his pants since then and he didn’t want to think about _who_ would’ve done that. He tiptoed down the steps.

Now for the challenge: sneaking past the second floor undetected. Hopefully none of the inhabitants were waiting on him to wake up. He crouched to the floor and peered around the wall beside the stairs.

_Bueno_. They were watching the television. He almost crept into sight only to stop when he spotted Tadashi standing off to the side. The man was visibly uncomfortable but speaking quietly with Cass all the same. What _happened_ while he was out? Nerves on fire, he crept to the stairs. No one noticed him and it would’ve stayed that way had a pleasant, factual voice not spoken.

“Miguel is here.”

Wide-eyed, he made a break for it. Startled voices pursued him as he sped down the steps, stuffed on his shoes, and sprinted out the door. The group gave chase, Hiro at the lead, but Miguel skidded around a corner and into the alley before he ducked behind trashcans. The team of scientists ran past his hiding spot and he waited a beat before skulking around the bins.

And nearly screamed.

Tadashi stared flatly at him with Baymax at his side. “Why in the world are _you_ running from _them_?”

“Long story.” He glanced around him. Anxious nerves made him bounce on his feet. The team would realize he was still nearby soon. He had to hurry. “Look, I _really_ can’t handle this. Not all of them at once and not right now, at least.” 

Tadashi paused a beat before he relaxed his stance with a sigh. “I can’t stop you, but I _can_ help you.” Miguel brightened as Tadashi beckoned him to follow. “I know a place. It’s a little hole in the wall but the food is _great.”_

Miguel fell into step beside the older Hamada and they walked in companionable silence. Tadashi sent Baymax home with the request not to reveal their location. Miguel needed space and the team were to respect that. It wasn’t until they found an outwardly dingy restaurant and sat down after ordering their food at the counter did he speak.

“It started when I was twelve.” The opening thought made no sense, had no _context_ , but Tadashi waited patiently and simply smeared salted butter onto warm bread. “I accidentally broke the picture frame of my great-great-grandmother Imelda with her husband and daughter _mamá_ Coco. In it, my _papá_ Héctor had a guitar.”

Tadashi quietly chewed as he sighed. “For generations, my family considered music worse than a crime. But I _loved_ music. I wanted to play so badly that I stole my _papá_ Hector’s guitar from De La Cruz’s tomb.”

“See,” he paused when the waitress approached with water in hand. When she left, the words tumbled out of him. “I stole on _Día de los Muertos_ and was cursed. I was dragged to the Land of the Dead. And–and at first thought _De La Cruz_ was my great-great grandpa. He was famous in México for his songs. But those songs were _stolen_ from Héctor.”

He inhaled. “Ernesto De La Cruz _poisoned_ Héctor.” His breath hitched.

Tadashi nodded, a subtle form of comfort and encouragement to continue.

“I almost _died._ I was running out of time before the curse would kill me and De La Cruz… De La Cruz, my _idol,_ my _role-_ model…” 

“Threw me off a building.” He choked on a wheezing sob.

“I was saved by _mamá_ Imelda’s _alebrije_ , Pepita, but Héctor almost died too. He was being forgotten and close to the Final Death but when _mamá_ Imelda gave me her blessing and returned me to the Land of the Living, I managed to make _mamá_ Coco remember Héctor…”

Tears trailed down his cheeks. “…and ever since I’ve been able to visit the Land of the Dead in my dreams. No one ever sees me, and I can see Lost Spirits in the Land of the Living, but…”

Tadashi echoed his thoughts. “But it’s like another curse. To see the dead and pretend that you can’t to keep them from haunting your living days.”

The older Hamada lowered his eyes. “I almost died in the fire years ago.”

Miguel took the cue and listened.

“It was scorching hot. I couldn’t breathe. Could barely see. It was impossible but someone approached me. But, they looked… _wrong_ somehow. Transparent, in a way.”

Tadashi studied the cooling bread. “They were a ghost. They promised to save me, to let me return to the living and I could see my brother, alive and well…for a price.”

Miguel silently nibbled his own bread and drank his water.

“So long as I obeyed the ghost, I could stay alive. If I didn’t, I’d die. I wasn’t thinking clearly, didn’t know what I was walking into, but I agreed. Later, Bruce said that our souls were intertwined: if I went against his wishes, my scars would flare as if they were burning all over again.”

Tadashi absently picked the seeds off the top of his bread. “It was miserable. I couldn’t go anywhere, couldn’t do anything on my own without feeling his control.”

Shadows weighed by misery darkened his face. “It took me years to earn his trust. Whenever I had the chance, I researched how to kill ghosts. Studied them for weaknesses. I found local shops selling ghost repellants. Found enchanted charms when I did errands. When you came out of nowhere, I took the chance.”

“Bruce never would’ve let me meet you at the pier. But I had charms saved and hidden. I trapped him to the house, but…”

“…he’ll break out soon and just might team with Ernesto De La Cruz.”

~oOo~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chappie is about 6.5 pages single-spaced this time around. I've started working on Part 4, but Spring Classes will begin on Monday so my updates will slow to a crawl. Still, I hope to squeeze in time to write some more and share what I have. I love this story, after all! (At this rate, I outta just post it as a separate story, yeesh)


	5. Puzzling Pieces Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miguel finds himself lost in San Fransokyo in search of his apartment. It's hard to ignore the temptation to ask the wandering spirits for directions, but he can't reveal his curse again. Luckily, one of the locals takes pity and directs him. Both are surprised to learn that Miguel is Hiro's new tenant. Miguel hopes they'll get along well enough, but when he asks about the photos of a young man, he learns that the man died years ago. But that can't be right, because when he checks the Land of the Dead in his dreams, Tadashi isn't there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mild mentions of disturbing themes and blood.
> 
> SalveSiS on AO3 struck again! They gave me some editing and reaction feedback.

Tadashi might as well have punched him with the news. _“¿¡¿Qué!?!?”_

“The charms should last a few more days, but…” Tadashi pushed the plate aside, propped his elbows on the table, and buried his face into scarred hands. “If I don’t act soon, I’ll be outta commission.”

Warm brown eyes scanned Tadashi. Rigid shoulders rose. The slouch hunched deeper. Head dropped low and pale hands trembled. And suddenly? Suddenly, those warm brown eyes understood. Tadashi had suffered. For years without his family. For years under the control of a cruel being. He had suffered.

And he had suffered _alone._

_“We.”_ Miguel corrected, a second late and a touch too fierce. “We are a team and _we_ will solve this.”

Watery eyes wouldn’t meet his own. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking,” protectiveness flared brighter than a wildfire. “I’m _demanding.”_

A chuckle escaped Tadashi. “You remind me of my brother: a good kid with a good brain, but one _bad_ stubborn streak. That stubbornness of yours is gonna get you killed.

“Been there, done that.” Miguel quipped. “So here I am!”

Laughter spilled out of Tadashi. “Scratch that–you’re _worse_ than Hiro! No _wonder_ he likes you.”

Miguel heart stopped for moment as Tadashi’s implication hit him. Promptly, his cheeks darkened into a crimson blush and he stammered. _“¿Qué?_ No! I don’t like–he doesn’t like. I can’t _believe_ you’d–No! _No!_ No, I _definitely_ would never–How could you–are you _loco?_ I don’t–”

“Look at you!” Tadashi laughed harder. “Redder than a tomato! Try not to explode or they might kick us out before I get my food.”

_“You!”_ Miguel mimicked a strangling motion.

And then the waitress arrived.

Miguel turned a darker shade as the nice lady probably wondered if a murder was about to happen in the restaurant. Thankfully, she didn’t comment and simply put the plates in front of them before she beat a hasty retreat. _¡Caramba!_ He didn’t even have a chance to ask for a refill of water.

Tadashi serenely wrapped noodles around his fork and Miguel glared at the evil, awful, distinctly _Hamada_ smirk. Angrily, Miguel scooped a forkful of his own pasta and stuffed his face but the Hamada smirk only grew into a _sadistic_ _Hamada snicker._

“Stahp it.” He made sure to show the half-chewed food in his mouth and grinned when Tadashi grimaced. _Bueno_. 

“Mind your manners, we’re in public.” Tadashi scolded lightly.

Miguel only hummed and bounced, purposefully swinging his feet and kicking the _evil Hamada_ across from him. Was evilness a trait in the Hamada family? He didn’t know. 

“So.” Mischief entered Tadashi’s gaze. “You and Hiro, huh?”

Pasta lodged in his throat as he choked and whined. _“Noooo!”_

“Never thought my brother would find himself anyone. Especially a brat like you. Would you like some crayons? I keep them handy.”

Miguel snorted and swallowed. “Got any paper? Can’t have crayons without something to draw on.”

“No paper, sorry. Guess we’ll have to ask for the kids’ menu.”

“Nah, I could just draw on _su feo_ face.”

“That would work.” Tadashi agreed lightly. “But I’d just take your crayons and draw on _your_ face.”

_“Now_ who’s the brat?” Miguel felt tears brimming. He couldn’t hold a straight face much longer. “Maybe we should use washable marker instead, can’t have _señorita_ Cass catching onto us.”

The bubbly energy faded when Tadashi sighed. “…I’ve missed them.”

“They’re good people.” He wiped his eyes as he calmed. “But… I don’t think Hiro likes me as well as you think.”

“Yeah?”

Noodles moved across the plate as Miguel played with his fork. “You saw the last time he treated me. In the garage, I mean. Didn’t want me around. Practically bit my head off, even. He hasn’t wanted anything to do with me this past week. I can’t imagine what he’s going to say to me when I talk to them later.”

Tadashi leveled an odd stare at him and he squirmed. “What?”

“I know you were kinda out of it when we saved you from Ernesto De La Cruz but… Do you remember _anything_ from yesterday?”

“No…?” 

The older Hamada glanced down at the patch on his arm before returning to his face. “…nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Last I remember was passing out after De La Cruz cut my arm. After that? I woke up in the house.” He conveniently left out he was also in the wrong bed, but Hiro’s _older brother_ didn’t need to know that.

Something somber flickered across Tadashi’s face. The man idly chewed on another bite before speaking carefully slow. “What did he do after he cut your arm?”

“Put it in a bowl, I think?” He bit his lip and scrunched his face. “Why?”

“Ernesto…” Tadashi shifted. “It was horrifying. I don’t know what he and his crew did with your blood. Drank it maybe? But when we came to get you from that warehouse, Ernesto and his lackeys looked like…like a bunch of…” Tadashi hesitated. “ _Monsters.”_

“Muscles that kept oozing _fresh blood_ had grown over parts of their face. It was like watching someone decompose in reverse. Or a zombie becoming human again. They were solid. Completely solid with only a slight glow. Even the team could see them.”

“But when I shot Ernesto–in the _leg,_ mind you _–_ the red, _raw muscles_ just…” Tadashi waved a hand as he struggled for words. “They just _slithered_ off his body. Like a snake. Then _vanished_ the moment they touched the ground. Hiro said the skeletons went back to flickering in and out of sight after that, but…”

Miguel grimaced. “That’s horrifying.”

“The worst part, though,” Tadashi fidgeted with his hands. “Was the aftermath.”

“Wait just a sec.” Miguel flagged down the waitress for a moment and asked for refills. She returned soon after with two glasses of water in hand.

She bid farewell and Tadashi stared blankly at the ice-cubes in his glass. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen Hiro so distraught.” He shuddered. “He blames himself for all this, you know.”

“But it wasn’t–”

“I know.”

“Then why–”

“Don’t know.” Tadashi leaned back. “He won’t tell me anything. Said he needed to apologize for something he did to you and wouldn’t budge when asked. I know he’s stubborn, and I know I’ve been gone for years, but…”

“He won’t talk to you?”

The man, seeming a decade older than his true age, sagged. Mutely, he shook his head. A pause passed in silence. Fellow customers chatted amongst themselves. Music played faintly from speakers. The bubble between them remained quiet. What could he say? How could someone comfort a broken heart?

Miguel softened. “The reason I even thought to look for you was because of Hiro. It was like a part of him broke whenever you were mentioned. I thought maybe if I checked on you in the Land of the Dead, I could at least tell you he was happy. Missed you terribly, but still happy.”

He cracked a smile. “I was so confused when Dante couldn’t find you. He’s my _alebri_ –I mean, spirit guide. He led me to your parents house and I saw pictures of you on the wall in their house. It took a few days, but I got the chance to ask Baymax if– _oye_ , you okay?”

Tadashi had stopped breathing. His skin paled to a alarming white. His face froze in a state of absolute shock. Nothing moved except the slight shaking of his hands.

Miguel frowned. Mentally, he reviewed what part he said that could’ve caused such a reaction. His eyes snapped wide.

“Oh! Your par–”

A dull t-shirt blurred in front of him as Tadashi surged across the table. Broad hands latched onto his shoulders. Miguel yelped and recoiled as frenzied eyes pierced into his own. _Too close!_

“You saw them?” Tadashi interrogated in a harsh whisper. “You _saw my parents?”_

Dumbly, Miguel nodded.

Tadashi scrambled for words. “What–how– _where–_ How are they? Are they okay? Where are they? _How_ are they? Are they okay? Did you really–”

Miguel grabbed the panicked man’s shoulders and shoved him back into his seat. _“Respira.”_ He grasped Tadashi’s outstretched hands and brought them to the tabletop. Lightly, he squeezed. _“Respira,_ breathe, Tadashi. _Breathe.”_

Tadashi’s hold on his hands tightened into a death grip. Miguel winced as blood stopped flowing and the wound on his arm pulsed angrily. Still, he forced himself to remind Tadashi to suck in air and let it back out. 

“ _Sí_ , I saw them. I didn’t stay long and Dante made a mess of their house, but they seemed to be doing well. They have tons of pictures of you and Hiro on their walls.”

Tension wound out of the older Hamada and disappointment took its place. “That…that’s good.” He lifted his chin just enough to study Miguel. “There’s pictures of us?”

“ _Tantos._ It’s how I figured out you were alive. That, and Baymax confirmed it.”

“I’m glad.” Tadashi’s soft smile shifted into a frown. “But, I’m not ready to meet them just yet. I’ve got work to do.”

_“We.”_ Miguel flagged the waitress and asked for the check and to-go boxes. She hustled away. “You’re stuck with me, _amigo.”_

Tadashi scoffed. The waitress returned. They paid the check and gathered the bags of food. Tadashi bid the waitress farewell and ruffled Miguel’s hair. Miguel squawked and batted away the hand.

“Alright, fine,” the Hamada grinned. “I’m stuck with you, but _you_ are stuck with my brother.”

“This again?” They walked along the streets. Miguel straightened his hair. “I told you, he _hates_ me.”

“And I told you, he blames himself.”

They curved a corner and sidestepped fellow pedestrians. “You should have heard the things he said to me!”

“Yeah, he’s got a mean streak.”

The block ended and they waited for the light to change at a crosswalk. Miguel pitched his voice deeper. “‘I’m _busy,_ Miguel. Go away, Miguel. No, Miguel, I don’t wanna hang out today. Sorry, Miguel, but the team and I have stuff planned and we need to focus. You’ll just get in the _way,_ Miguel.’”

The light changed and they crossed. Tadashi lifted his voice into falsetto. “‘Oh, Miguel, I’m _so_ sorry. Miguel, please wake up. Don’t you die on me, Miguel. Damnit, Miguel, I need to apologize! Will Miguel be okay? Oh, Miguel, this is all my fault. Baymax, when will Miguel wake up? Is Miguel awake yet? Miguel, Miguel, _Miguel!_ ’”

Miguel snickered. “He doesn’t sound like that.”

“Well he doesn’t sound like,” a hand waved at him, “ _that_ either.”

The snicker burst into a laugh. The café came into view. “Did he really say those things?”

“He wouldn’t shut up until he knew you’d be okay.” Tadashi rolled his eyes as a faint bell jingled. “Nothing he said was helpful, but he wouldn’t stop saying–”

_“Miguel, I’m so sorry!”_ Someone burst out of the café entrance.

Fluffy black hair. Flurry of swinging limbs. Flash of a dark red shirt. Zippered navy hoodie billowing in the wind. Blurred sneakers pounding pavement. Miguel yelped. A sprinting bundle of chaos was about to bulldoze them _flat._

Miguel turned to flee but a hand grabbed his shoulder before snapping away one second later. One Hiro Hamada rammed into his poor, innocent self, and sent them soaring through the air. His heart stopped as gravity returned full-force and they crash-landed to cement. They tumbled over one another for a foot or two before rolling to a painful stop.

A panicked face shoved into his own and Miguel groaned as Hiro yammered in his ear. _“I’m so sorry,_ are you okay? I’m so sorry, Miguel! I didn’t mean to– _Oh my_ –I’m so sorry!” 

Soft hands flitted across his face and he swatted them away. Hiro recoiled and scrambled off of him. Miguel took the chance to sit upright. He also took the chance to realize Tadashi was busy. _Laughing._

Miguel scowled and readied some sharp words but Hiro shot to his feet and offered a hand, cutting off his train of thought. He hesitated a beat. The waiting hand trembled slightly. His eyes trailed up the navy sleeve, along the curve of wild black hair, and lingered on the spot where furrowed brows connected. His focus dropped to thinned lips. Laughter faded in the background. 

The hand lowered and awkwardly wiped against khaki covered thighs. Miguel sighed and stood. Fresh bruises pulsed and he winced, pointedly ignoring the way the man near him lurched as if to help only to stop.

“I’m fine.” He brushed past Hiro and hurried to join alongside his brother.

If Hiro wanted forgiveness, he had to _earn_ it.

Tadashi and he walked to the café entrance and, after a beat, footsteps scraped cement as Hiro followed. The bell jingled above them as the three entered. They strode past the customers and curved around tables. They greeted a inquisitive Cass before heading to the back area and up the stairs where the team waited.

And there, they swarmed.

Honey Lemon launched herself off the couch to greet Miguel. She fumbled over her words. “ _Miguel!_ I feel awful for the way I treated you–You have to understand, we thought you were playing a cruel prank! You weren’t and we didn’t know and it’s no excuse but I’m terribly sorry for how we treated you. And then you got _hurt_ and we were _going_ to stop but Hiro was just so hurt and after the _last_ time someone hurt him–oh it all just got _worse!”_

Miguel retreated a step and tried for an understanding smile but Honey Lemon was too close. Every step back she would step forward until he’d been cornered against the wall by the stair rail. She grabbed his face and pecked his cheeks with apologies. When he tried to wiggle away, she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Those bruises are _new!”_ She inspected his bare arms with a critical eye. “We have to change the gauze. How did it get so filthy?”

“Ask _Señor_ Hamada.” He grumbled.

Honey Lemon whipped onto the unsuspecting man. Hiro tugged on the hoodie strands and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He smiled awkwardly as Honey Lemon stormed up to him. She seemed to tower over him as he hunched in on himself.

Hiro squeaked. “I can explain?”

Gogo idly popped her gum behind him. “Yes, you will.”

Knowing that Gogo would lead the interrogation from there, Honey Lemon looked to Wasabi. “Gauze?”

“On it!” The germaphobe squeezed past the women and hustled down the stairs.

Tadashi scanned the room with a frown. “Where’s Baymax?”

Fred, kneeling on the cushions and sprawled over the back of the couch to watch Hiro’s untimely death, pointed a finger to the ceiling. “Charging.”

Gogo crossed her arms. The verbal massacre was ready to begin. 

“So.” She cocked a brow. “Explain the bruises.”

“ _Well_ …” Hiro drawled and fidgeted in place. His voice dropped to a incoherent mumble.

“Speak up.” 

He cleared his throat. “I ran him over.”

A beat passed.

Realizing the implications, Hiro blurted. _“Not with a car!_ I ran _into_ him! _Into!_ As in, ‘oops, sorry, didn’t see you there!’”

Fred snickered. Tadashi coughed over a laugh. 

Miguel commented lightly. “But you said my name. So you _did_ see me.”

Hiro gritted his teeth and shot him a glare. In return, Miguel gave a smug little grin.

Wasabi bustled up the stairs with gauze and disinfectant in hand. The burly man extended a hand and Miguel stretched his arm to allow him to unwrap the wound. While Wasabi handled the medical aspects, Gogo continued her assault.

“You asked us to ignore Miguel because of a cruel prank. You had us meet up for extra patrols to avoid him. I admit, we thought he messed up. We owe him an apology for our behavior. But you ran from him. And you asked us to run with you. So.” She uncrossed her arms to place them on her hips. “Woman up.”

Hiro exhaled through his nose and pivoted to face him. Honey Lemon stepped aside and the group quieted as the atmosphere switched from humorous to tense. Tadashi retreated a step to give them space and Gogo watched them with a unimpressed stare.

“Look,” Hiro began and shoved a hand into the hoodie pocket. “In my defense, I thought you were trying to…I dunno, get under my skin? It’s happened before. But, you never meant to hurt me and I’m sorry I hurt you. All you tried to do…all you _wanted_ to do was… And you just…”

“You…”

Hiro rolled his shoulders back but kept his head down and as Miguel tilted his own head to meet Hiro’s gaze, he realized Hiro was crying. Hiro’s breath hitched and his shoulders shook with the movement.

_“You brought my brother back to me.”_

Arms encased him and he blinked dumbly at the wall next to Gogo. Hiro leaned down to burrow his face into the crook of a red hoodied shoulder and tears dampened the fabric. A second ticked. 

Miguel softened and accepted the embrace, murmuring. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m right here. You’re okay. I’m okay. _We_ are okay.”

Hiro blubbered grossly. Snot and tears mixed on the red hoodie but Miguel couldn’t bring himself to mind. “How can I repay you?”

“Well,” Miguel hummed. “I once heard from some guy in a purple suit that gummy bears are great.”

A small smile pressed through the fabric as Hiro’s breathing calmed. “…they are.”

“And I’ve been needing an audience to listen to my new song but I can’t seem to find anyone…”

“I’ll listen.” Though Hiro’s voice wobbled, it was strengthening.

“…and there’s one more thing.” Miguel paused as the man sniffled. “Ernesto De La Cruz must be planning something and Bruce will escape soon. Your brother and I need you– _all_ of you–” he added with a sweeping look across the room. “To help us.”

Hiro straightened and met his gaze with a cocky albeit watery smile. “We’re in.”

Miguel scanned the tear stains, puffy eyes, and snot dripping down Hiro’s chin before bursting into a giddy laugh. Hiro blushed and Miguel grinned dopily at Tadashi.

“Alright, team,” Miguel’s heart hammered as excitement rushed through his veins.

“What’s the plan?”

~oOo~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POP QUIZ – Should I post Puzzling Pieces as it's own story? It would mean deleting what I have of Puzzling Pieces in Colección of Oneshots so I could move it to it's own story page thingy.
> 
> My campus internet shot me in the foot yesterday. ALL DAY. So I shuffled my entire iTunes library and challenged myself to write Higuel drabbles within 10 timed minutes. Been posting the results on Tumblr, but might post them into Colección of One-shots as well. 
> 
> This time around, Part 4 is a grand total of 6 single-spaced pages!


	6. Puzzling Pieces Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of religious connotations.
> 
> I will delete the 1st chapter of Vague Summaries and Ideas soonish since they aren't part of Puzzling Pieces.
> 
> Credit to axureerheeid on Tumblr for brainstorming ideas with me.

The group gathered on the third floor. Though Tadashi hovered in the doorway, hesitating, Hiro grabbed his elbow and dragged him inside. A reassuring smile from Miguel seemed to calm the older Hamada but he still chose to lean against a wall by the exit. An quick and easy out if he needed it. But he wouldn’t need it. 

Because they were a team.

Subconsciously, Miguel puffed his chest with pride. He finally had allies in a high stakes game. He stole Hiro’s red bean bag, dropped it between his bed and the doorway and hopped atop the mattress. The group caught the cue. The bean bag was an invitation for Tadashi to sit with the group. At a distance, admittedly, but with them all the same.

No one went for the bean bag. Instead, Hiro plopped in the corner desk. Honey Lemon folded the room divider to open the space and perched atop the non-rumpled side of Hiro’s bed. Fred sprawled himself on the floor between the two. Wasabi debated between the two beds as seats before heading for Miguel’s. It was made up and neat. Gogo fall back onto Hiro’s messy covers and stretched her legs as she lounged against the pillow-covered headboard.

Hiro pulled out a notebook and pencil from a desk drawer. He called for Baymax with an, “ow.” 

Baymax inflated into shape from beside Hiro’s desk. They followed through the customary greetings and explained the situation. Baymax waddled to stand between the red bean bag and Miguel atop the bed. Tadashi flicked his focus between the red seat and his former creation. Miguel glanced at him with a soft smile before purposefully looking away (and coincidentally at one Hiro Hamada’s fluffy black hair but, details). Tadashi had to choose on his own whether he joined them or not. He had clear permission, now he had to decide what to _do_ with that permission.

Quietly, the once-dead Hamada sat in the bean bag.

With the group settled, a thoughtful pause settled over them. Pen strokes scratched paper. Wasabi broke the silence. “First of all, what do we know?”

Miguel piped up. “Ernesto De La Cruz plans to come back to life.”

“By using fresh blood.” Gogo glanced at Miguel. “Either Miguel’s or Hiro’s.”

Tadashi added somberly. “And he might discover Bruce. They could work together.”

“Who’s Bruce?” Wasabi scrunched his face. “We need to write this all down.”

“On it.” Hiro absently twirled the pen in his hands.

_“Nuh_ uh.” Wasabi strode to the younger man and snatched the notebook and swiped the pen. “Your handwriting is worse than _chicken scratch._ I will write it.”

Hiro readied a retort until his gaze flicked to Miguel’s. The snickering man mouthed _‘chicken scratch?’_

Wasabi returned to the bed and primly crossed his legs. The notebook found itself snug atop his lap and the pen held firm in his hand. The younger Hamada rolled his eyes and spun in the chair to face them. He pushed a foot against the floor to lean back in the swivel chair.

Hiro took the lead. “We need something that can fight ghosts. Tadashi,” he paused a beat. “How did you make the gun?”

“Used your 3D printer for the main structure.” The older Hamada pulled a paper envelope from his pants pocket. He emptied the envelope into his hand to reveal broken metal pieces. White crystals, possibly salt or sugar, fell out of the packet as well. “And added enchanted charms into the open spaces. For the bullet, it’s nothing but a 3D printed case filled with one or two of these things.”

“Small, but powerful. It can hurt people too, right?”

“Yes. Though it won’t be as damaging as a real bullet wound, the projectile speed will still cause significant damage.”

“Long-distance weapon, then. How did you enchant it?”

Tadashi fidgeted in place and mumbled.

The group exchanged glances. Gogo cocked a brow. “Didn’t catch that.”

“I…might’ve mugged a priest?” He inhaled and said fast. “And maybe had homeless people steal holy water from churches in exchange for food?”

Silence.

Tadashi swallowed and blabbed. “I _tried_ to make my own holy water by boiling tap water and shredding rose petals but it had little to no effect! I told Bruce it was “art” but he told me to stop because it gave him a headache.”

“Old library books said you need a _blessing_ from a spiritual person to repel ghosts. Meaning they either dedicated their life to spirituality like a priest or a wiccan, _or_ they had a strong spiritual experience or connection with the Spirit World or whatever.”

Miguel started to sweat. _Like the Land of the Dead?_

“So I had to steal metal crosses from a priest or two but I couldn’t have Bruce _finding_ them so I shattered them into pieces. They wouldn’t be as strong but I needed _something._ The salt at least preserves the positive energy.”

“And I couldn’t risk Bruce knowing my plan, so I worked with homeless people. Gave them food and in return they went to church to fill sealable bags with holy water. They held onto the bags for me.”

The group continued to stare.

Tadashi hunched his shoulders. “I lived in the slums. People aren’t spiritual there and those who might be are either high on drugs or almost dead. It’s not like there was a _walking spirit battery_ nearby.”

Silence reigned.

Miguel burst. “But you _did_ have a spiritual experience! You almost died in the fire and lived with a _spirit._ You can see ghosts too, so…”

Tadashi retreat further into the beanbag. “ _I_ didn’t die and come back to life. Yes, I can see the dead but I can’t visit them in my _dreams_. I’ve never been blessed before either!”

Miguel crossed his arms and shrank. “Okay, sure, _maybe_ I’ve been to the Land of Dead but that doesn’t mean I’m suddenly _magical_.”

“Why else would _your_ blood revive Ernesto so fast? One bowl and he and his posse are reverse zombies!”

“What about _Hiro’s_ blood? He plans to sacrifice him!”

“A life for a death!” Tadashi scowled. “He could just go to a blood bank if he really wanted to. For some reason he wants _your_ blood!”

Miguel tossed his hands into the air. “Revenge! I ruined his reputation by revealing the truth.”

_“Or…”_ Hiro cut in and the two whipped wide eyes onto him. Oh, _sí_. There were other people there. “Maybe there _is_ something special about Miguel.”

Oh _dios mío,_ that should _not_ have made him blush so hard. His thoughts erupted. _Special, special special, estoy especial._ A dreamy sigh escaped through his nose and he missed the next bit of conversation. When the fuzzy warmth calmed, he returned to the present.

“–we enchant our current weapons?” Gogo finished.

“I don’t see why not.” Tadashi shrugged.

Wasabi said. “I’m still wondering, who is Bruce?”

When Tadashi averted his gaze, Miguel took the reigns. “He’s the reason Tadashi wasn’t able to come home. He’s a ghost like De La Cruz but…different. More tangible? I don’t know. He’s tied to Tadashi–that’s how he controls him. Right now, he’s trapped in his house by enchanted or blessed or _whatever_ charms. They won’t last longer than a few days.”

He inhaled. “We have to defeat him soon or Tadashi might die.”

The atmosphere weighed heavily with the news. They processed the information in silence until Fred pushed himself upright and crossed his legs.

“In the fourth issue of _Do or Die,_ Grimly Reap had to fight the boss of the Ghost World.” A smile crept across his face. “But she couldn’t always attack. Sometimes she had to defend herself…using magic _and_ science _.”_

Gogo shut him down. “That doesn’t solve–”

“If you can _fight_ one way,” Fred bulldozed. “Then why can’t you _defend_ the same way?”

“So, what, we _enchant_ Tadashi?” 

Though Gogo meant it as sarcasm, Hiro’s expression had shifted. “That…might actually work.” He examined his brother with a critical eye. “In your research on ghosts, was there anything on blessing people?”

Tadashi frowned. “There were some spells using blood as protection but that might’ve been black magic.”

Miguel panicked. “Not my blood!”

The Hamada brothers sent gentle smiles his way. Hiro soothed. “We would _never_ hurt you, Miguel.”

Gogo idly commented. “Except when you football-tackled him outside.”

Hiro scowled. “ _Anyway._ What else did you find?”

“People aren’t usually blessed. Something about complicating their natural energy? I don’t know, usually items with significant meaning to the person are blessed and _that_ is what protects a person.”

“Items such as…armor?”

“I would think so.” Mental gears churned as Tadashi met his brother’s calculating gaze with one of his own. “We’d still need someone to bless the armor.”

Hiro glanced at Miguel. “If Ernesto wants him for a reason, then let’s use that same reason against him. Miguel, can you bless armor?”

Miguel blinked. “Uh…I’ve never done that before? What makes you think I _can?_ ”

Hiro said. “I don’t know if you can. Don’t even know what Tadashi meant by visiting the dead or dying and living again. All I know is that there are definitely ghost-skeletons trying to kill you and I will do _everything I can_ to protect you.”

Dumbly, Miguel beamed. Tadashi cleared his throat with a sly smile directed their way. “Get a room _later_. We have work to do right now.”

Scandalized, Hiro spat fire. _“Tadashi!”_

“Focus.” His brother just continued with a satisfied smirk. “Armor. Since Miguel has never blessed anything before, let’s have him bless the outfit in parts instead of the whole thing in one try. Maybe have him bless metal crosses too for extra protection?”

Paper rustled beside the flustered Miguel as Wasabi wrote. 

Hiro picked up the thought despite the dark red cheeks. “Okay. That way each part will be equally strong. And if each part has a pocket or mechanism designed to allow _used_ charms to be replaced with _new_ ones…” 

Tadashi finished. “Then the armor would not only repel ghosts for duration of the initial charms, but _keep_ repelling so long as the charms are constantly replaced.”

“But!” Hiro backpedaled. “What if Miguel’s blessing doesn’t work? Should we have a priest bless the charms and armor too as a precaution?”

“A priest or wiccan could work. Will it be strong enough?”

“You were able to trap Bruce with a priest’s magi–wait, how _did_ you trap him?”

“Used the sealed plastic bags filled with holy water and just placed them randomly throughout the house.”

“Huh. Then, if we can replace the charms in the _armor_ , can’t we do the same for him? Just replace the bags with new ones?”

“No.” Tadashi chewed on the fingernail of his thumb. “Those charms are _inside_ the house. If we enter from the _outside_ then the spell would break and he’d be freed.”

“Keeps him in and no one out?”

“Exactly.”

_“Damnit._ How much time before they wear off?”

“Two days is my guess. Maybe less if Ernesto discovers him.”

“Then we better get started, bro.”

Miguel watched the conversation like a ping pong match, whipping focus from one side of the room to the other. It took him a moment to realize they had finished the topic until both stood and walked out of the room. Their voices faded with the distance.

Dazedly, he said. “What just happened?” 

Honey Lemon softened. “Oxytocin.”

Wasabi looked up from the notebook on his lap. “The ‘Love Hormone?’ But they’re not–”

“Love can be familial.”

“They’re not mothers, though…”

“Oxytocin plays a role in positive social-relationships. That includes sibling bonding.”

Wasabi shrugged. “You’re the chemist.”

“It’s a recent discovery.” She consoled before perking. “I bet they’re in the garage! Let’s go!”

Fred leapt to his feet. “Yeah! Let’s watch sibling bonding in live-action!”

“Hopefully Tadashi won’t try to pick him up.” Gogo slid off the bed and gestured for Baymax to follow them. “He’s bigger than he used to be.”

“If he tries, it’ll be _awesome!”_

Wasabi sighed, waving the notebook. “Why am I friends with you people?”

_Huh._

Miguel wondered the same thing.

As the group left the room, Miguel lingered as a thought crept upon him. Nine years ago he had been cursed and sent to the Land of the Dead. To return to the living, he needed a _blessing_.

A fist founds its way to his lips as he thought. If Ernesto could cross the bridge on a day other than _Dia de los Muertos,_ then…

…could the deceased Riveras cross too and give their blessing?

~oOo~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr friend axureerheeid has bounced ideas back and forth with me about a potential sequel to this fic. BUT NO PROMISES!
> 
> Picture this: a romantic comedy focused on Miguel and Hiro's relationship. But, they restart as friends so as not to ruin their recently rebuilt friendship. Tadashi resists the urge to play match-maker until enough time passes. There's only so long he can walk on eggshells, especially when he wants Miguel as a brother-in-law. That young man is a miracle-maker, damnit! But, things aren't always sunshine and rainbows so there's drama and angst but fluff and romance too. After all, every relationship has its flaws.
> 
> Other AUs we've played with can be found over on Tumblr –  
> http://sapphiresterreart.tumblr.com/tagged/Higuel


	7. Puzzling Pieces Part 6

While the Hamadas crafted armor in the garage, Miguel enlisted Honey Lemon in his quest to various stores. If he was right and _could_ summon his family members, then he’d need to make an _ofrenda_. It was a half-thought plan but an plan all the same.

From a small table with a cloth to cempazuchitl flowers and _pan dulces_ , he’d also need to buy colored parchment for the _papel picado_ decorations. As for the photos, he had each Rivera in his wallet already. Now, what else would he need…?

“Candles. _Incense_.” He muttered as he skimmed the store shelves. “Need to cleanse any negative energy from the makeshift _ofrenda_ …”

High heels tapped as Honey Lemon neared. “I found several packets of fresh marigold petals. Think it might be enough?”

He glanced at the amount. “That’ll definitely cover the altar. Maybe even lead through the garage door, but…”

“One more, just in case?”

He nodded and her heels tapped away. Dante could help summon them, too. Just take a nap and let the _alebrije_ know to find him in the living world. Then, he could tie a note to the dog’s side and send him back to the Land of the Dead to the family. Hopefully the note would cross _with_ the dog, though…

Even if it didn’t, Dante would at least catch their attention. Maybe even direct them to notice the summons. _Hopefully_. Never knew what would happen with that dog.

Honey Lemon returned and they gathered the rest of the materials they’d need from the local store. They left _Local Latino Lifestyle_ and hustled back to the house and into the garage.

The other team members greeted them and ventured close to help. Miguel explained his idea to those who listened (for the Hamada brothers were lost in their work) and the team pitched in to help create the _ofrenda_.

Wasabi organized a corner of the garage to free space for the small table Honey Lemon had bought. Gogo hefted the furniture over and pushed it against the wall. meanwhile, Fred cut decorations in the colorful paper under Honey Lemon’s guidance and Miguel decorated the altar with Wasabi’s assistance. Gogo lit the incense and fanned the scent throughout the room. Honey Lemon found shoe boxes to act as tiers to the altar and decorated them while Fred finished the perforated paper. Then, he taped the paper to the wall high enough to avoid contact with the candles.

Miguel pulled the photos out of his wallet and placed them atop the stacked shoeboxes. To keep the photos upright, he leaned them against light offerings of _pan dulce_ and bowls of fruit. He then lit the candles and, for the final touch, they scattered the marigold petals across the floor of the garage and led a path to the outside.

By the time they finished, nighttime had fallen and Miguel’s stomach wouldn’t stop grumbling. He called to the team and they followed him out of the garage and into the house. They climbed up to the second floor and Cass greeted them with a grin.

“Talk about timing! I was about to go down to tell you all dinner is almost ready.”

Miguel brightened. “ _Gracias_ _Senorit_ –ahh I mean Cass! _Tía_ Cass!”

She laughed away the fumble and peered around him. The smile dropped into a worried frown. “Oh, will Tadashi and Hiro join us soon, or…?”

He blinked and turned around but the team only shrugged helplessly. Gogo commented. “Pulling them away from science is impossible.” 

Miguel scoffed and hustled past them. So what if the Hamada brothers were nerds? Even _nerds_ had to eat! He entered the garage, fully intending to smack Hiro’s shoulder and drag him away, when he stopped just long enough to notice the brothers.

Energetic. Animated movements despite looking at a holographic screen. Wide eyes and wide smiles. They looked at each other and babbled in incoherent techno language. One started a thought and the other finished it.

It’d been awhile since he had seen Hiro excited. To share his discoveries, his thoughts, his _inventions_ with someone new. To see him open and share with unrivaled passion. To see…to see him so…so…

… _alive_.

His weight slipped as he leaned against the door, just watching the two brothers. He didn’t know how long he stood there. Didn’t know when his focus shifted from both brothers to just the contagious grin on Hiro’s face. Didn’t even know when they noticed him. But he _did_ know he did _not_ stammer once he was caught.

“Miguel?” Tadashi prompted. “What did you need?”

Nearly choking on his own saliva as he gasped, he straightened. “Oh! Uh, dinner! I came to ask you about dinner.”

Hiro shook his head. “Not hungry.” 

Irritation wiped away the embarrassment. “Nuh-uh. You’ve been working for _hours._ You need to eat.”

_“Nuh-uh.”_ Hiro parroted. “We’re so close to finishing this.”

Miguel simmered as Hiro ignored him to type on the computer. Hiro pulled Tadashi back into their tech zone and Miguel scowled.

“Okay, Hiro, I mean it’s not like you _owe_ me or anything.”

If he had to play dirty to get them to eat so they didn’t pass out from exhaustion, then dammit, he _would_.

Hiro stopped typing. “What?”

Miguel examined his fingernails. “After all, it’s not like you _promised_ to listen to my new song.”

Hiro sucked in air and Miguel felt dark satisfaction when he noticed the frightened expression on the paling face. He flicked a hand, turned away, and lifted his chin.

“Guess your _word_ doesn’t mean anything.” He added a huff. “See you after dinner.”

He counted to three as he walked away. Right on cue, sneakers scuffed cement and a chair squeaked as Hiro tumbled after him. The young man sidled to his side with wide eyes and Miguel _beamed_.

“Gotcha.” He laughed as Hiro squawked, indignant. Miguel grabbed his wrist before he could retreat and called to Tadashi. “C’mon! Dinner won’t wait!”

Miguel dragged Hiro through the front door and up the steps. Hiro rolled his eyes but kept pace and Tadashi followed after them. They arrived to find the group had settled around a large folding table.

Three empty seats waited for them.

Miguel shoved Hiro into one and grinned as Tadashi sat in another. Miguel took the middle seat and dived for the food. He was almost oblivious to the surprised expressions on the rest of the team, but noticed all the same.

He swallowed food. “What?”

Cass shifted her gaze from the brothers to him. “You did the impossible.”

He chuckled and shrugged. “Hiro made a promise and I held him to it.”

“Oh?”

Miguel straightened. “Yes, I wrote a new song and he agreed to listen. Uh, actually…” he grabbed his wrist. “Would anyone else like to listen? I don’t mind.”

Cass and Honey Lemon perked and excitedly chimed together. “We’d _love_ to!”

Laughter filled the table and happy chatter flowed among the group. When dinner ended and they cleaned after themselves, Miguel trotted up the steps and grabbed his guitar. He returned to the living room and snagged a chair and spun it so he faced them with the guitar pressed against his chest.

The group settled back into their seats. The folding table stayed in the center of the room and Hiro leaned atop his elbows and drank water while Tadashi sat next to him. Honey Lemon sat beside Cass while Wasabi and Gogo lounged on the couch. Fred stretched himself across a chair or two and Miguel straightened.

“Al-alright,” he cleared his throat. “I’ve worked on this on and off, but wrote it all while I’ve been here. So…”

Strings vibrated beneath his fingers. The melody began slow and soft as he hummed and warmed his voice. He knocked his knuckles lightly against the guitar as an occasional beat and tapped his foot as a constant metronome. He inhaled.

“ _Qué extraño_ , what a different world! 

Flew by plane and the land below changed.” 

From the music of _los muertos_

to the science of _los vivos,_

I doubted myself

and _mis motivos.”_

Fingers moved faster as the rhythm quickened pace. Absently, he rocked his head as the words swept him away.

“ _Un momento, un momento!_

You appeared with a smile.

_¿Como es posible?_

You made it worthwhile.”

The strings hummed as he slowed. His breath hitched and strummed softer. His mind flashed with memories.

“Then my world crumbled in a flash

when a once-dead man

reappeared from ash.

_Perdón mi amoooo–"_

He fumbled the chord. Someone choked quietly. His cheeks burned as he drawled the vowel and covered the slip.

“– _oor-igo_ , are you going away?

_Perdón mi amigo_ , why won’t you stay?

_Un momento, un momento_!

You appeared with a smile.

_¿Como es posible?_

You made it worthwhile.”

He hummed and smiled. The melody strengthened as he raised his voice and unconsciously straightened his back.

“Fear controlled my every move

but I will not give in.

There’s only one thing to prove

and with you we’ll win.

_Un momento, un momento!_

Watch as we rise.

_¿Como es posible?_

We’ll win by sunrise.”

The melody sped to a stop. He slapped the guitar strings, stomped his foot, and strummed one last chord. With the song finished, he scanned the room with a hopeful gaze.

Applause erupted. Cass cheered. Fred whistled. Honey Lemon clapped furiously. Even Gogo cracked a smile as Wasabi nudged her lightly. Tadashi grinned and…Hiro? Hiro sat as rigid as a statue with a strained, almost angry expression.

Miguel winced and called. “Hiro…?”

Hiro snapped into action. “Those weren’t the words.”

“Huh?”

Tadashi snorted. Hiro shot a scathing glare at his older brother and pushed. “The _amorigo_. What were you actually gonna say?”

Nerves tumbled out of him with a dismissive chuckle. “ _Amigo_ , of course! I just messed up a little, that’s all.”

The guy looked like a ticking time bomb. Miguel averted too-innocent wide eyes to the ceiling and decided a hasty retreat would be smart. But before he could stand, the group distracted him with compliments and questions. He answered as best he could but found his eyes would always drift to one twitching Hamada.

He swallowed as Hiro squeezed through the group and pushed once more. “No, seriously, what was the actual line?”

Gogo rolled her eyes. “What more do you want, a confession?”

Fred pumped fists into the air. “Yes!” He gasped. “Wait! Let me get my phone.”

Hiro sulked and Miguel blushed. Soon enough the group wandered their way back to the garage to work. The Hamada brothers continued to code and design. Gogo and Wasabi reviewed the first draft ideas. Fred dozed on the red couch. Honey Lemon and he checked over the _ofrenda_ one last time before the team had to return to their own homes.

Miguel bid the team farewell before returning to the altar and glancing at the photos. He smiled as old memories warmed him. _Papá_ Héctor and his unconditional support. _Mamá_ Imelda and her stern guidance. Ah, _sí,_ _Tío_ Felipe _y Tío_ Oscar had such an odd but so _cool_ twin-level understanding of each other. 

Then there was _Mamá_ Coco and her constant, soothing presence. And poor _Papá_ Julio! Ha, he always managed to get run over by someone. _Tía_ Rosita kept the group positive and _Tía_ Victoria had rough edges but she knew how to keep everyone safe. Although he didn’t have a picture of Pepita, he knew she’d find a way to join them.

He couldn’t wait to see them again.

His gaze drifted from memories to the reality sitting nearby. Hiro and Tadashi were enraptured with their discoveries. _Wow._ He smiled. Despite the situation, he was glad. Glad to have reunited the brothers. Glad to possibly see his family again (and without dying to do it). Glad to be lucky enough to have both living and–

_Wait_.

Brown eyes whipped to the _ofrenda_ before snapping to the Hamadas.

_¿Era posible?_ If he could summon _his_ family from the dead, then…

…couldn’t he summon the Hamada parents too?

~oOo~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creds to my Mexican Tumblr friend axureerheeid who knows about ofrendas and juggled ideas with me once again!
> 
> I wrote the song.


End file.
